


Me Before You AU.

by fiveroundsrapid



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F, F/M, me before you au, mentions of disability and suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2018-10-01 07:17:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 37,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10183829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiveroundsrapid/pseuds/fiveroundsrapid
Summary: Serena Campbell knows lots of things. She knows that noon is too early for a glass of Shiraz. She knows how to file. She knows she likes working at her local GP practice and she knows she might not love her boyfriend Robbie.What Serena doesn't know is she's about to lose her job or that knowing what's coming is what keeps her sane.Bernie Wolfe knows getting blown up took away her desire to live. She knows she's embarrassed that her son has to care for her. And that her ex-husband didn't leave her because she was suicidal, but rather that she fancied a woman. She also knows that woman is gone for good as well. She knows everything feels very small and rather joyless now and she knows exactly how she's going to put a stop to that.What Bernie doesn't know is that Serena is about to burst into her world in a riot of colourful blouses, quips, and Shiraz. And neither of them knows they're going to change the other for all time.





	1. Chapter 1

"You're kidding?" Serena Campbell, wrong side of 50, known for cheeky flirtation coupled with hard work coupled with very, very bright blouses, was now staring aghast at Henrik Hanssen; her boss. Or, as it would seem now: her ex-boss.

It's not like the day had started any different. She woke up, prized herself from the arm that had been thrown over her in the night- it belonged to Robbie, her boyfriend- and proceeded to get ready, as usual, at the local clinic where she worked. It wasn't a big place by anyone's standard, but it was local, and it was good, and it was bloody hard work trying to keep the people of Holby Village alive. The average age was about 80 in this place, and she, along with Henrik, and Sacha Levy, had kept the practice going. Until, it would seem, now. 

Government cuts. That had been the reason apparently. Though to be fair, Serena hadn't been listening, all circulation to her ears heading straight for her brain to try and process the word _redundant_. She was fired. Kaput. Income was gone. Savings were practically none existent as most of it was pooled into Ellie's student finance and for Jason's flat and Alan's wages. They were going to pay her three months salary, and her services were no longer needed. She'd been a clerical assistant, basically a glorified receptionist with patient confidentiality privileges, helping GPS stay on top of appointments, keeping patient files in order. The job a product of some sort of cry for help that had culminated in Serena taking a college course in business management after prodding from Ellie to 'get her life together'. That had been lovely to hear on her 50th.

But she had liked the work. Knew everyone, all the locals and their various maladies, which was enough to get by in terms of small talk. Robbie was also a local man on the police force with a somehow balanced interest in running and bacon butties. They all knew him as well, so that was a safe topic as Mrs Clarke waited for a blood test. But she'd arrived early that day, taken the calls and sorted out the timetable. Everyone knew she hated Monday mornings. But she never minded them, and couldn't think about anything else she might like to do. Why on earth would she?

She liked the people. Her colleagues, Henrik and Sacha. The nurse that came in one day a week for prescription reviews, Fletch. It's not like they went out for drinks every Saturday night, but they were friendly. Sacha had a love of loud shirts and Fletch was a cheeky chap a the best of times. They weren't a big place, but there was a need. But, apparently not. All the files were to be sent to the local hospital the next town over. And Serena was left on her arse. 

"I'm afraid not, Ms Campbell. Our funding is being allocated elsewhere, and as such, the practice has to close." Henrik's blunt voice called her out of her shocked daze. Her hand drew up to the necklace around her neck, thumb running over the small chain. A habit. A nervous one. 

"So... I mean, what happens now, Henrik?" Serena asked, and from his coat pocket of a smart, dark trench, Mr Hanssen withdrew two envelopes. 

"Your termination and reference, and your redundancy pay." Henrik drew up to his impressive full height, pressing the envelopes into her hands and Serena looked down at it dumbly. In a move of kindness, he added; "I am truly sorry. We couldn't have wished for better."

To be honest, Serena wanted to reply with a sarcastic _'thanks very much'_ but she was too worried. They relied on her wages. Robbie had his own place and bills to pay for, Jason couldn't work, and Ellie was off at university. They only had her. Modest though her wages had been, they had at least kept them all up and running. Especially since Edward got married again. Then the alimony had gone. 

She was well and truly stuffed. 

*******

Serena somehow made it home. Went through the ordinary task of taking her shoes off, hanging her coat up. The unordinary task of placing her box of work stuff from her desk on the foot of the stairs. It was only as she lent against the kitchen counter, watching the kettle slowly boil, that she suddenly felt tears prick at her eyes. The kettle whistled. Serena poured herself a cup of tea. Sent a text to Robbie;  _fancy coming round later? bad news x_

She sat there, drinking the cup of tea, thinking what the hell she could do now. There was only one thing for it; get a job. The problem was she had a small degree and next to no other qualifications, had bounced around for years to find a stable job and wasn't exactly at a peak age for retraining. True, she had enough to get by on for now, but it wouldn't last long. Money never did. With a huff and a sigh she buried her head in her hands and wondered if it were too early for Shiraz. 

Better head to the  _bloody_ Jobs Centre tomorrow then.

*******

Robbie couldn't come round that night. Serena should've expected it. He'd had to work. Some late night operation, or some paperwork that needed doing and it was easier to crash at his place anyway. Serena was partially grateful. She'd been made redundant but at least there had been no snoring in the night. So that night had been spent scouring job sites looking for anything she might be remotely qualified in. It hadn't helped that she'd had to drop out of A Levels to care for her mum, and then, of course, had come Edward, and then Elinor and it had all just  _happened_ and before she knew it she was divorced, with a daughter at uni and a nephew to take care of. Maybe she should ask Jason to move in with her... it would certainly help in terms of not paying for rent. And she could keep to routines, and only pay for Alan, his carer, when Jason really needed him. Maybe that was a solution? Nursing a glass of Shiraz and watching crap TV, Serena booted up her laptop to see if she could skype Elinor. Her daughter wasn't one for routine, a stark contrast to her cousin. So Serena knew it was a 50/50 chance she'd pick up, let alone have time to talk to her. 

As predicted, Elinor did pick up her video call, but had to go out soon after. She was half way through getting ready:

"Hi, Mum! You'll have to be quick, I've got to go to a screening of a mate's documentary. NHS: Winter Crisis. Up close and personal!" Elinor said as she pulled straighteners through her hair.

"Well, Ellie, there is something..." Serena tried.

"I should totally tell her about your job, working on the front lines, meeting the patients. I mean, I know Holby isn't exactly Harley Street but it counts? And you're not a doctor but you could so ask your boss for an interview about his opinion on Jeremy Hunt-" Elinor was rambling on in between applying her lipstick. 

"I lost my job." Serena blurted. The words hung there. Like a dead fish. Elinor's hand had stilled, applying mascara. Silence descended. So much so that Serena worried the video call had frozen or the connection lost. She tried again. "I lo-"

"Yeah, no, I got that, Mum." Elinor said, putting down her makeup and the screen juddered as, on her end, Elinor took the laptop from the desk and moved to sit on her bed, the laptop on her lap, her mother now having her full attention. "Why? What's happened?"

"The practice has to close," Serena explained with a wave of her hand. "Sacha and Henrik are moving to the hospital the town over. As are the patients, if they can get the bus fare..." Bitterness ebbed into her voice at that. "I got redundancy pay." She offered weakly, but could already see her fiery daughter getting worked up.

"Oh well, that's good of them! I mean, what are you going to do now? All the crappy jobs are given to younger people because they can pay less, and it's not like you have any qualifications!" Elinor started.

"Well now," Serena was going to remind her of the business course, which  _Elinor_ had dared her to do, but it seems her daughter was well and truly ready to fight for social justice. It seems university had changed the small town village girl into a bonafide Emmeline Pankhurst.

"You've worked like a Trojan there for the last decade, Mum! When is your last day?" Serena sank in her chair, muttered the answer that it was, in fact, today, and she felt a burning sensation of shame at having to admit to her daughter that she was royally screwed. It wasn't as if she had planned for this. Or to be this example to Elinor. At the news, Elinor exploded. 

"What? They only gave you a day's bloody notice? That's crap! What are you going to do now?"

"I'll get another job." Hopefully, that sounded more confident than she felt.

*******

She claimed Jobseekers. It was humiliating. She was the oldest one there, despite the recession. Stuck in a room of people looking jut as bewildered as she did, filling out the same forms looking for the same thing: a job. Serena did interview after interview and was assigned a very eager young pup as her personal 'advisor'. They were called Jasmine. A peppy, prove-yourself kind of girl with blonde hair. Serena tried not to hate her, she really did. But she was trying to be positive when all Serena could do was be pessimistic. 4 weeks in she'd tried a factory, tried fast food service and found neither stimulating enough. She burnt the nuggets and she broke the conveyer belt. Now she sat at her fourth interview as Jasmine scanned through the touch screen for further employment ‘opportunities’. Even Jasmine, was basically paid to be optimistic, was starting to look a bit weathered. Both Serena's age and qualifications or lack thereof counted against her. It wasn't even like she could turn to pole-dancing if she was that strapped for cash.

Serena fidgeted at her seat as it took ages for Jasmine to say anything. Always a positive sign. Not. "There’s not much left outside flexi-hour retail opportunities."

"Night-time shelf stacking?" Serena raised an eyebrow.

"There’s a waiting list. Parents tend to go for it, because it suits the school hours,’ Jasmine said apologetically. She studied the screen again. ‘So we’re really left with care assistant.’

"Wiping old people’s bottoms." The eyebrow went higher, voice thick with a tone of _'are you kidding me?'._

"I’m afraid, Serena, you’re not qualified for much else. If you wanted to retrain, I’d be happy to point you in the right direction. There are plenty of courses at the adult education centre.’

"But we’ve been through this, Jasmine. If I do that, I lose my Jobseeker money, right?"

"If you’re not available for work, yes." Jasmine replied, sheepish. Serena sighed, exasperated. She was the only breadwinner, she couldn't take time off to study for something because she had to flipping well eat! She'd broached the idea of moving in with Robbie, but had shut her mouth before saying anything about it. He liked his flat. She _liked_ that he had his flat. Besides, they'd only been dating a few... years? God, it was that long. Things worked as they were. Nothing needed to change, did it?  Jasmine continued. "At this point in proceedings, Serena, I really need to make the point that as a fit and able person, in order to continue qualifying for your allowance, you need –"

"– to show that I’m trying to get a job. I know." This girl kept trying to talk to her like she was five. She was old enough to be her mother. It wasn't as if Serena didn't want to work! Or couldn't work! She missed her old job, missed a reason to get out in the mornings, to speak to people. It had alarmed her to realised that out of work and her boyfriend, Serena really didn't do much. Losing a job was like losing a limb. It was unnatural, shocking, and at times it was downright, bloody  _unfair._ It made her worry about money more than ever, about her future, about if she'd ever scrape enough to retire, and more than that; Serena felt useless. And old. 

Jasmine's voice broke into her reverie. "Aha. Now this might work." Serena sat up straighter, curbing the urge to rip the mouse from Jasmine's hand and peer over, round at the screen herself. "Just come in. This very minute. Care assistant position."

"I told you I don't want-"

"It’s not old people. It’s a … a private position. To help in someone’s house, and the address is less than two miles from your home. ' _Care and companionship for a disabled woman_.' Can you drive?" Serena looked at Jasmine like she had three heads.

"Of course I can drive. But would I have to wipe her-"

"No bottom wiping required, as far as I can tell.’ She scanned the screen. ‘She is a … a quadriplegic. She needs someone in the daylight hours to help feed and assist. Often in these jobs it’s a case of being there when they want to go out somewhere, helping with basic stuff that they can’t do themselves. Oh. It’s good money. Quite a lot more than the minimum wage."

"That’s probably because it involves bottom wiping," Serena said, dryly. But a spark of hope in her gut betrayed her. If it didn't involve bottom wiping... well, she'd taken care of her mum, hadn't she? When she got ill? Sure, paralysis wasn't exactly early onset dementia but she could  _care._

"I’ll ring them to confirm the absence of bottom wiping. But if that’s the case, you’ll go along for the interview?" Jasmine asked. They both knew it wasn't a question. And it if was, they both knew the answer. She was going to go to that interview. She was going to hopefully get that job. Serena nodded. Jasmine beamed. "Brilliant. I'll let Mr Dunn know."


	2. Chapter 2

Bernie Wolfe stared out of the window. The view never changed, no matter now much she looked at it. If she were lucky, it might rain, just to give some semblance of change. Maybe it would be sunny; like it had been in Afghanistan. Mostly, though, it was this: dull, grey, cloudy. Typical British weather that, along with many other things, Bernie had begun to quite thoroughly hate. 

Brown eyes let the lids fall down, obscuring the dismal weather. She wasn't outside. She was indoors, stuck, motionless, paralyzed. Bound to a wheelchair and utterly bereft of independence. She hates that as well. 

If she squeezes her eyes hard enough she remembers it; the dust, the heat, the smell of Alex's perfume as they huddle close together in the large four-by-four. Jostled on the dirt roads and the uneven desert, throwing them together physically as the war-zone had done otherwise. The thrill of the affair, the adrenaline of her day job, every sense heightened every nerve on fire. She helped people, saved people, changed lives...

It was then that it had all gone wrong.

Because then she'd been blown up. Roadside IED. Spinal injuries. Everyone else who had been caught up in it had survived. She'd just been the unlucky one. The one that Alex had had to drag from the wreck, saving Bernie's life. Flown back to England to only be told that the loss of feeling in her legs and her hands were never going away. She knew that well enough. She'd been a trauma surgeon. She'd had to tell the same news to some men, years ago. But that was the problem with feeling invincible. Sooner or later you fly too close to the sun.

She opens her eyes again, views her reality. Heard the clock tick behind her. Wishes she could reach up and throw up to the floor, revel in the sound of it smashing against the floor. She couldn't do that. 

"You alright, Major?" Morven. Her nurse. She was young, but skilled enough. Knew how to cope with Bernie's aches and pains. It wasn't a friendship. Bernie didn't let it get that far. But it was as close to companionship as she could allow. 'Major' was a fond nickname. Bernie had hated being 'Ms Wolfe', as if she were something more than a lump of flesh in a chair, and 'Bernie' was just filled with pity. Major was the allowance. Major adhered to her morbid sense of humour, and her fantasy of being anywhere else but here. Morven was nice enough to indulge. Cam hated it.

Cameron Dunn was like his mother, and hated most things to do with her 'state'. Hated that it drove his sister Charlotte halfway around the world. Hated that it had made his dad divorce his mum. Bernie never had the heart to tell him about the real reason Marcus had left; about how in a fit of frustration, rage and just because she could, she told him that she'd met Alex, fallen in love, had an affair with a woman younger than he was or could ever hope to get in the sack. 

But Cam was at least tentative, allowed Bernie to box herself up in an annex near to the main house. Cam was lucky in business, so had enough income to afford all the adjustments and disability aids that Bernie needed... such as Morven. They just didn't talk- the roles of parent and child macabrely switched so that Bernie was reliant on Cam. That made her hate Cam, just a little bit, just.... _enough_. She'd never been a perfect mother. She was always off on tour, but now it was different because she was here all the tame and she loathed it. 

"As well as I can be, Morven." Bernie echoed dully. It was a bad day. A day where depression may kick into a sudden rage at this _life_. Morven was pretty, around Cam's age. With light blue scrubs, dark skin and eyes and black curls atop her cheery head, Bernie sometimes thought that Morven should be anywhere but here. But Cam paid her, and she seemed happy enough...

"Mr Dunn's holding interviews," Morven said as if she were expecting some kind of reaction. Bernie gave none, but the woman persevered, knowing Bernie's moods now. "For a carer, someone to help out when I have to go to the hospital."

"Forgive me if I'm not jumping up and down with joy." The joke fell flat, the tone sarcastic, causing Morven's smile to waver somewhat. Bernie couldn't stand anymore. She wheeled away, leaving Morven to compile that ridiculous folder for whatever sad sap her son ended up employing. 

*******

Serena was busy plating up dinner. The regular do, nothing fussy: meat and two veg type of thing. The wildest it got at her house was when she got an 'extra large chips' on Wednesday nights for Jason from the local chippy. Jason had Aspergers, and so was very conscious of routine to get him by. Alan helped with that, and mastering social skills. So, when Serena could gently persuade him, Jason and Alan came around to tea and Jason stayed the night, as long as Robbie didn't. The two didn't get on as well as Serena would have liked but... _well_ , Jason took some time to get used to, didn't he? Besides, it gave them some auntie/nephew bonding time and Alan a day off to go any meet up with his friends. She'd just let Robbie kiss her on the doorstep after tea before going back to his flat.

Jason and Alan were in the other room at the moment, watching Pointless on the telly. Robbie sat at the dining table already, making no move to help. Instead, he nursed his beer, taking a swig occasionally in one swift, fluid motion. He was currently quizzing Serena about this new job opportunity.

"So, how messed up is this lass, then?" 

"Robbie!" Serena admonished as she stabbed the boiled potatoes to check they were cooked. Robbie just shrugged.

"Sounds like a posh bunch anyways, living up on that hill." Serena had to give him that, although in the street they lived on, posh constituted to any family that didn't have an ASBO somewhere along the line.

"Maybe, I don't know. Not even met them yet. And anyway, it's only an interview!" She took a sip of a glass of Shiraz that was on the countertop.

"Still, it's something, isn't it? 'Bout time you found something." Robbie closed his eyes as he took another swig and Serena flipped him the bird whilst he wasn't looking.

*******

The morning of the interview, Serena's confidence was at rock bottom, thanks to her charming nephew. She clutched her coat tighter around her, wishing it was a damn sight warmer than the blustery February morning that it was. Yes, this morning  _had_ begun quite nice. A text from Robbie, wishing her luck, and a reminder from Elinor that she should dress to impress. Then she'd got up and had breakfast ready for Jason and herself at the precise time. See? She could do routines. There's that. She wouldn't be totally rubbish for this job... maybe. Provided that she didn't spill anything, shout at anyone or had to wipe anything unseemly. 

No, the problems had arisen when she'd driven Jason back to his flat, and he'd struck up a conversation. Jason, with his stare and broad glasses, looked at everything with unbridled curiousity and bluntness, something that both endeared her and annoyed her. It wasn't her fault that he picked up on her nerves. She'd pulled up on his road before he'd spoken, not being a fan of having a conversation in the car whilst she was driving; for fear, it might distract her. He didn't want to die in a car crash.

"You're wearing an awful lot of make-up." Jason offered. Serena squirmed as she pulled on the handbrake. 

"Am I?" She feigned ignorance, knowing how much time and effort she'd put into trying not to look unemployable. As a result, she'd tried out a new foundation, hoping that it might hide crow's feet and provide some sort of armour at the interview. 

"Some of it has congealed in your frown lines." Jason stated bluntly. Serena deflated at that, her hand reaching up to press at the offending spot, her neck craning so she could see her handiwork in the car mirror. 

"Bless you for that." She muttered.

"Is that a new blouse?" Serena looked down at the blouse. It was new in fact. She'd bought it in a moment of low confidence, knowing that she really shouldn't when she was unemployed. But it made her feel good, and some of her others were threadbare now. Her mother had always said you've got to make a good first impression. First impressions; they count.

"Oh, yes, you noticed at last. Do you like it? It was horribly expensive."

"It's actually just horrible."

"Well, thank you for the vote of confidence."

"So why have you got a new blouse, anyway?"

"People do tend to replace their clothes from time to time, Jason- Oh look at the time, it's 8:31, you'd best head inside." She all but shooed him out of the car. 

*******

Dunn House was on the other side of the local castle, the unassuming and unremarkable relic of some king or other that made the tat sell and the tourists flock. Serena had seen it before, of course, but never really paid attention to it. It didn't impact on her life, and now Serena saw it, she knew that she was out of her depths. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe Mr Dunn really hadn't meant to say 'yes' to her application and Jasmine had got muddled up. Either that or it was a cruel joke, Serena thought as she moved up the driveway. She wore the leopard print shoes Elinor had bought her last Christmas. She was  _this close_ to falling flat on her face, as she navigated the poor pavement before turning onto the gravel driveway that might as well have been made of jelly with how secure she felt in the silly shoes. 

She was contemplating running away as she approached the front door when the door opened and Serena started. A man came out onto the porch. He was half Serena's age, at least, wearing medical looking clothes, glasses and carried a coat and folder under his arm. As he passed, he gave Serena a polite smile and pushed his glasses further up his nose. All Serena could really thing was  _bloody hell I am out of my depth here._ She wasn't a medical professional. Maybe they'd seen she worked at a GP and assumed. Oh God, this was going to be a nightmare. 

"Thanks for coming,’ a voice said, from inside. "I’ll be in touch. Ah." A man's face appeared. Younger than Serena (was everyone nowadays?) - he was handsome, wearing suit trousers and a shirt but in a way that said that this was his _casual look_. He had trimmed stubble, on purpose rather than Robbie's five-day shadow. And he had the air of being very important for a reason mere mortals could never understand.

"You must be Ms Campbell," He assumed rightly. Serena was a little thrown. But pulled herself together.

"Serena." They shook hands.

"Okay. Um, come in." He withdrew his hand from hers and allowed her access into the house. It was massive. But Serena didn't really catalog anything or take it in. She could feel the man's eyes on her frame, already somehow assessing her. It was unnerving, especially since the look came from someone who looked to be in his late 20s. Finally, they made it into the sitting room, which looked as if the manor had  _tried_ to be homely but couldn't quite achieve it. The sofas looked like those you should perch on, rather than sink into with a blanket and a trashy tv magazine. Serena hadn't known what to expect- some sort of care home wannabe? With hoists and soothing classical music in the background? This place was not that.

She sat down. Mr Dunn did the same and introduced himself; Cameron Dunn. He asked if she was the candidate who had responded to the jobs centre ad. She said yes. He paused, as if stewing this over. A quick smile, reassuring but somehow still assessing. 

"So … Ms Campbell … do you have any experience with quadriplegia?" 

"No."

"Been a carer long?"

"Not really. Not exactly." She clarified, hearing Jasmine's voice in her head. "I've never done it before, at least not professionally. My mother had dementia and my nephew has aspergers, but I suppose they are all different... but I'm sure I could learn. About the quadriplegia." She thanked heaven she had practiced saying that word on the way to her nightly pee last night.

"Do you know what a quadriplegic is?"

Serena faltered. "When … you’re stuck in a wheelchair?"

"I suppose that’s one way of putting it. There are varying degrees, but in this case, we are talking about complete loss of use of the legs, and very limited use of the hands and arms. Would that bother you?" It was all very clinical, very oppressed, especially for a family member. If she didn't know it was Cameron Dunn, she'd say he was the bloody butler by the attachment he was showing. Maybe a mechanism? Maybe they were just used to it now? Maybe it was just shocking for her? Oh God, what if it was his wife, love's young dream cut short and now he was so emotionally damaged he reverted into himself less he fall apart...

Maybe she shouldn't try to read people...

"Well, not as much as it would bother her, obviously." Serena tried for a smile. It wavered at Mr Dunn's expression, or rather, lack of. "Sorry – I didn’t mean –"

"I assume you can drive?"

"Of course." What is it about people thinking she was a silly old bird who didn't know a gear stick from a handbrake?

"Clean licence?" Serena nodded. Cameron Dunn ticked something on his list. Serena looked down at her shoes. God, they really were ridiculous. "Are you all right?" Mr Dunn was looking at her. Serena looked away from her shoes and into his eyes, giving a nervous smile. A pause stretched out and then; "How old are you?" 

 _Bloody hell._ "I'm 51."

"And you were in your previous job for ten years..."

"Yes. You should have a copy of my reference. It wasn't anything medical or such but it was good... I mean, not good, well- ..."

"Mm … " Mr Dunn looked at her reference. "Your previous employer says you are a “warm, chatty and life-enhancing presence”." It would've been Sacha that had written that, Serena thought. Henrik describing someone as 'life-enhancing' would be less likely than him getting together with old Mrs Birdy T who kept winking at him every time she visited the practice.

"Yes, I paid him." The joke was out before she could think. But Mr Dunn smiled and Serena felt all her Christmases had come at once. She'd broken the ice. She'd done  _something_ that wasn't idiotic. But as soon as it was there, it was gone, professionalism exuding from the young man. It was if Serena were being studied. And not really in a good way. More uncomfortable. Cameron's eyes fell down to Serena's leopard print heels. Serena should have just worn her black pumps.

"So why are you leaving this job, where you are clearly so well regarded?"

"Cuts. The practice I worked at- the local GP- I was the receptionist and sort of... um, filing person. Odd jobs and all that. It was forced to shut down. Everything moved." Serena said, adding: "I would have been happy to stay."

Mr Dunn put down his pen, entirely unreadable. "So, Ms Campbell, why should I employ you instead of, say, the previous candidate, Dr Arthur Digby, who has several years’ experience with quadriplegics?"

Serena looked at him. Was this a trick question? "Um … honestly? I don’t know." This met with silence, so I added, "I guess that would be your call." How the hell was she supposed to compete with 'Dr _Arthur Digby, with several years_ experience'?

"You can’t give me a single reason why I should employ you?"

Serena sat up a bit. _Sell yourself_ , said Jasmine's voice in her ear. Serena was really trying not to hate that poor girl. "Well … I’m a fast learner, I’m never ill, I only live on the other side of the castle, and I’m stronger than I look … probably strong enough to help move your wife around –"

"My wife? It’s not my wife you’d be working with. It’s my mother."

"Your mum?" Serena blinked. His _mum._ Well, that might explain the age question. A friend? Oh, don't be daft, it'd be for the forms. If she indeed got the job. Serena battled on. "Um … I’m not afraid of hard work. I'm organised... punctual. I’m good at dealing with all sorts of people and … and I make a mean cup of tea." She fell into silence. Really, the mum? That had thrown her. "I’m not suggesting the thing … the paraplegia … quadriplegia … with … your mum… could be solved by a cup of tea. It must be..." Serena trailed off.

"I should tell you, Ms Campbell, that this is not a permanent contract. It would be for a maximum of six months. That is why the salary is … generous. We wanted to attract the right person."

"And I will give it a really good go." Serena wanted to die.

But Cameron Dunn seemed oblivious. He closed her file, and his face softened somewhat. "My mum- ah, you'll have to call her Bernie. _Bernie Wolfe_ \- she was injured nearly two years ago. IED in Afghanistan. So she needs twenty-four-hour care, the majority of which is provided by a trained nurse. I can't put off my job anymore; I'm a surgeon, and the carer would be required to be here throughout the day to keep her company, help her with food and drink, generally provide an extra pair of hands, and make sure that she comes to no harm." Cameron drew himself up. "It is of the utmost importance that my mum has someone here who understands that responsibility."

‘I can see that." Serena nodded, picking up her handbag from the foot of the sofa. She was doomed. There was no way she got the job. She would go home, admit it to Elinor, then Robbie and then have a bottle of wine and cry into a tub of own brand ice-cream. Another interview failure was beyond me. And this job paid more than £9 an hour.

"So would you like the job?" Mr Dunn asked, and Serena dropped her handbag to the floor, shortly followed by her  _jaw._ She waited a moment; had she heard wrong?

"Sorry?"

"I would need you to start as soon as possible. Payment will be weekly."

"You’d rather have me instead of –" Serena began.

"The hours are quite lengthy – 8am till 5pm, sometimes later. There is no lunch break as such, although when Morven, her daily nurse, comes in at lunchtime to attend to her, there should be a free half an hour."

"You wouldn’t need anything … medical?"

"Mum's got all the medical care I can get. What we want for her is somebody robust … and upbeat. Her life is … _complicated_ , and it is important that she is encouraged to –" He broke off, his gaze fixed on something outside the French windows. Finally, he turned back to her. "Well, let’s just say that my Mum's mental welfare is as important to us as her physical welfare. Do you understand?"

"I think so. Would I … wear a uniform?" Serena remembered the bespeckled man in his medical scrub-type things.

"No. Definitely no uniform." He glanced at her feet. Another quirk of his lips. "Although you might want to wear … some more practical shoes."

"It … I’m sorry. My daughter's idea. Said they'd make me more... confident..."

But Mr Dunn had already moved on. "I’ll explain what needs doing when you start. Mum is not the easiest person to be around at the moment, Ms Campbell. This job is going to be about mental attitude as much as any … professional skills you might have. So. We will see you tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow? You don’t want … you don’t want me to meet her?"

"Mum is not having a good day. I think it’s best that we start afresh then." There was a flicker in something then, in his countenance. Serena couldn't place it. It took her a while to realise that Mr Dunn was waiting to show her out. Serena got to her feet.

‘Yes,’ Serena said, buttoning her coat over her blouse. She was already resolved to be early. _Punctuality is the art of waiting for the careless,_ as her mother had said. "Thank you. I’ll see you at eight o’clock tomorrow."

 


	3. Chapter 3

7:52am and Serena was already swearing underneath her breath. She hadn't even been able to get all the way in the driveway before her car had shuddered to a stop. Serena knew she was blocking the driveway. There was enough room for a car to get through if it was a flipping tiny Mini and not one of those expensive, massive ones that were an insult to the bloody name. 

Serena hit the steering wheel on her own piece of crap as the rancid smell of burning rubber hit her nostrils. Great impression. Really stellar. Her first day on the job and her car had only broken down, blocking the driveway. Serena unbuckled her seatbelt and got out, grabbing her handbag from the passenger seat and slinging it over her shoulder. 

"Stupid car!" Serena growled, kicking the tire half-heartedly with her now rather more practical, plain, black flats. Fuming, she headed towards the house, mentally reminding herself to call the breakdown company when she had a spare half hour for lunch. Robbie might have to pick her up, which would go down brilliantly, she was sure.

_Pull yourself together, Campbell._ Serena thought, heaving a deep breath, steadying herself before pressing the doorbell promptly before eight in the morning.

*******

"This is the annex. It used to be stables, but it suits Mum a lot better than the house because it’s all on one floor. This is the spare room so that Morven can stay over if necessary. We needed someone quite often in the early days."

Mr Dunn was leading Serena around said annex; a small complex just across the garden (a prim, proper garden that looked ornamental rather than kept out of any green-thumbed advocate), it was functional, practical and about as cosy as the main house. Which is to say, not. Mr Dunn walked briskly down the corridor, gesturing from one door to another, without looking back. He was in some sort of hurry... like this was the mere formality and then he could run away. Serena was keeping up, however, occasionally adjusting her handbag so it'd stay on her shoulder. 

It was heavy; she hadn't known what to bring so had brought a book, a notebook, her purse, headphones, usual necessary things such as her phone, diary and various stationary. Serena was nothing if not practical. Prepared, however... she was starting to think perhaps _not_.

"The keys to the car are here. I’ve put you on our insurance. I’m trusting the details you gave me were correct. Morven should be able to show you how the ramp works. All you have to do is help Mum into position properly and then the car is automated- does it all itself. Although … well, she's not keen to go out anywhere at the moment." Mr Dunn paused and Serena looked out to see the large black monstrosity that was fully kitted out. She could see her own pitiful bucket of bolts in the distance. Shame burned deep within.

"It is a bit chilly out," She offered, but Mr Dunn didn't seem to here.

"You can make yourself tea and coffee in the kitchen. I keep the cupboards stocked. The bathroom is through here –" Mr Dunn opened the door and Serena started a little bit, staring at the white metal and plastic hoist that crouched over the bath. She'd seen disabled bathrooms, of course, there had been one at the practice- but if you were using it yourself, as the others were occupied and you really needed the loo, you sort of... distanced yourself from the bars and accessories that came with it. You just... _peed_.

There was an open wet area under the shower, with a folded wheelchair beside it. In the corner, a glass-fronted cabinet revealed neat stacks of shrink-wrapped bales. Serena couldn't identify them, but everything had the strong smell of disinfectant. All very clinical. Hospitalised.

Mr Dunn closed the door and turned to face Serena. "I just want to stress, it is very important that Mum has someone with her at all times. A previous carer disappeared for several hours once to get her car fixed, and Mum … injured herself in her absence." He swallowed, as if still traumatized by the memory. Serena blanched. Was he psychic? Or could you smell her broken down car from here? But she gave a resolved and defiant look.

"I won’t go anywhere."

"Of course you will need … coffee breaks. Comfort breaks. I just want to make it clear that she can’t be left for alone for more than ten minutes or so. If something unavoidable comes up either ring the intercom, as my sister Charlotte stays on occasion, or call my mobile number. And there's always Morven. If you do need to take any time off, I would appreciate as much notice as possible. It is not always easy finding cover."

"No." Serena agreed. It all sounded like a well-rehearsed speech. Serena briefly wondered how many carers there had been before her.

"If Mum is occupied, then it would be helpful if you could do some basic housekeeping. Wash bedding, run a vacuum around, that sort of thing. The cleaning equipment is under the sink. Mum likes her alone time... she doesn't do well with people under her feet but obviously, it'd be cool if you worked out all that for yourselves." _'Cool'_ was the closest Mr Dunn had been to sounding like his actual age. 

But the pang of pity she felt for the man soon vanished as he looked down at her attire. She pulled at her cardigan; a waterfall cut with stripes in various colours, over a black blouse and black vest-top. Serena suddenly felt rather frumpy. She smiled anyway.

"Obviously I would hope that you could … get on with each other. It would be nice if she could think of you as a friend rather than a carer. Most of her friends are on tour or... " Well, no one had to be a genius to guess that last word was 'dead'.

"Right. What does she … um … like to do?" Serena asked.

"Mum watches films. Sometimes she listens to the radio, or to music. She's got an interface; sort of like an IPad. If you position it near her hand, she can usually manipulate it herself. Mum's got some movement in her hands, but she finds it hard to grip." A pause. "Do you have any questions?"

"No."

"Then let’s go and introduce you." He glanced at his clock on his smartphone. "Morven should have finished dressing her now." They moved to another door, and Mr Dunn knocked. "Are you in there? Mum? I've got Ms Campbell to meet you."

There was no answer.

"Mum? Morven?"

A woman's voice; "It's alright, Mr Dunn. She's decent."

He pushed open the door. The annex’s living room was deceptively large, and one wall consisted entirely of glass doors that looked out over open countryside. A wood burner glowed quietly in the corner, and a low beige sofa faced a huge flat-screen television, its seats covered by a wool throw. The mood of the room was tasteful and peaceful.

In the centre of the room stood a black wheelchair, it's seat and back cushioned by sheepskin. A lithe, young woman in sky blue collarless scrubs was crouching down, adjusting a woman’s feet on the footrests of the wheelchair. As Serena and Mr Dunn stepped into the room, the woman in the wheelchair looked up from under unkempt, blonde curls. Oddly, the first thing Serena thought was: _how the hell does she see through that fringe?_ It was long, uncut and fell over her eyes. 

"I’m Serena." Thank goodness that she sounded more confident than she felt. Silence stretched after that. Mr Dunn obviously waiting for Bernie to make the first move. Instead, Serena was just met with a vacant stare. God, the woman wasn't even blinking. "Um..." Serena hated silence. She cleared her throat. Mr Dunn was becoming more and more fidgety. He didn't know whether to be distressed, annoyed or miffed. 

"Mum, _please_."

Bernie Wolfe continued to gaze at Serena, steadily, paying no mind to her son. Then, suddenly, emotion burst onto the woman's face in the form of the smallest, faintest of mirthful smiles. It made Serena feel oddly sick. She had not a clue what to expect from this woman. 

"Good morning, Ms Campbell," She said. She had a deep, husky voice that was infinitely feminine somehow. "I hear you’re my latest babysitter. Tell me, engine been growling or whining? Any intermittent smell of hot or burning rubber?"

Serena was very taken aback, and the knuckles clutching the strap of her handbag were white.

Morven had finished adjusting the footrests. She shook her head as she stood up, giving Bernie a playful swat on her arm. "You couldn't just play nice, Major?" She grinned, before holding out a hand, which Serena shook, firmly. Morven seemed to be unafraid, and unfazed by Bernie's behavior. "She likes cars, and I saw yours had a bit of trouble this morning?" Serena flushed, letting go of the hand, as hers went to hold the necklace around her neck, moving the charm backward and forwards along the chain.  
Mr Dunn was rigid. "I should leave you all to it. You can call me through using the intercom if you need any help. But you've got Morven. She can talk you through Mum's routines, and her equipment."

"I am here, Cam. You don't have to talk across me. My brain isn't paralysed." Bernie said. " _Yet_."

"Yes, but if you're going to patronize then it's best if Ms Campbell does talk directly to Morven." Mr Dunn wouldn't look at her as he spoke, keeping his eyes fixed on the floor. "I'm working from home today. So I can pop over at lunch time, Ms Campbell."

"Serena is honestly fine." She told him. Mr Dunn nodded, though Serena took the impression that he was not going to call her anything but 'Ms Campbell'. He left, and everyone was silent till the footsteps faded away. Then Morven broke the silence, apparently not one for sullen atmospheres. 

"Shall I go talk Ms Campbell through your meds, Bernie? Do you mind? I can pop the speakers on."

"Radio Four, please, Morven." Bernie echoed dully, retreating into herself. The mirth was gone. 

"You got it." The automatic wheelchair retreated into a side room. Morven followed and Serena stayed where she was. Then Morven was back, shutting the door behind her and muffling the music. Serena and Morven walked through to the kitchen.

"You not had much experience with quadriplegics, Mr Dunn says?"

"No."

"Okay. I’ll keep it fairly simple for today. There’s a folder here that tells you pretty much everything you need to know about Bernie's routines, and all her emergency numbers. I’d advise you to read it, if you get a spare moment. You'll probably get a few. She's not much of a talker at the moment."

Morven took a key from her belt and opened a locked cabinet, which was packed full of boxes and small plastic canisters of medication. "Right. This lot is mostly my _thang_ , but you do need to know where everything is in case of emergencies. There’s a timetable there on the wall so you can see what she has when on a daily basis. Any extras you give her you mark in there –" She pointed, rather chipper. Serena's eyebrow had raised during the use of 'thang'. "– but you’re best to clear anything through Mr Dunn, at least at this stage."

"I didn’t realize I was going to have to handle drugs."

"It’s not hard. She knows what she needs, just needs a little help getting them down. There's this beaker, over here. Or you crush them and pop them in a drink." Serena picked up a closed box of meds. She had no clue. Serena wasn't even sure she had ever seen so many drugs outside a pharmacy.

"Okay. So she's got two meds for blood pressure, this to lower it at bedtime, this one to raise it when she gets out of bed. These she needs fairly often to control her muscular spasms – you will need to give her one mid-morning, and again at mid-afternoon. She doesn’t find those too hard to swallow, because they’re the little coated ones. These are for bladder spasms, and these here are for acid reflux. She sometimes needs these after eating if she gets uncomfortable. This is her antihistamine for the morning, and these are her nasal sprays, but I mostly do those last thing before I leave, so you shouldn’t have to worry. Bernie can have paracetamol if she’s in pain, and she does have the odd sleeping pill, but those tend to make her irritable in the mornings, so try not to give them out too often."

"These –" Morven held up another cardboard box of pills. Serena could make out the name 'Berenice Wolfe'. "– are the antibiotics she has every two weeks for her catheter change. I do those unless I’m away, in which case I’ll leave clear instructions. They’re pretty strong. There are the boxes of rubber gloves, if you need to clean her up at all. There’s also cream there if she gets sore, but she’s been pretty good since we got the air mattress. That thing's been a godsend."  
As Serena stood there, Morven reached into the pocket of her scrub and drew out a key, and held it out to Serena. "This is the spare," she said. "Not to be given to anyone else. Not even Bernie, okay? Guard it with your life."

"It’s a lot to remember." Serena swallowed, but gave a faint smile. Morven smiled back, reassuringly.

"It’s all written down. All you need to remember for today are her anti-spasm meds. Those ones." Morven pointed, and Serena nodded. "There’s my mobile number if you need to call me. I’m studying when I’m not here, so it wouldn't be ideal, but feel free till you feel confident."

Serena stared at the folder. Her thoughts went back to the notebook she had brought. It suddenly seemed very inadequate. It felt like she was to sit an exam she hadn’t prepared for. Luckily, exam conditions tended to bring out her best work. She was determined to make this work.

"And if she needs the loo?" Her thoughts went back to the hoist. "I'm not sure I could lift her..." Morven shook her head. 

"You don’t need to do any of that. Her catheter takes care of that. I’ll be in at lunchtime to change it all. You’re not here for the physical stuff." She assured Serena, that made her curious.

"What am I here for?" She asked bluntly.

Morven looked away that, scratching the back of her neck. "Try to cheer her up a little? She puts on an act but … she’s a little cranky. Irritable. Sad. Understandable, given … the circumstances. But you’re going to have to have a fairly thick skin. The thing, with your car? It's her way of proving herself. Getting you unbalanced."

"Is this why the pay is so good?"

"Oh yes. No such thing as a free lunch! But just be blunt with her. Don't take an inch. I think she likes that sort of conversation sometimes. Probably an army thing. She tends to be a bit testing sometimes..." Morven hesitated. "I like her."

She said it like she might be the only person who did.

Serena followed him back into the living room and Morven opened the door that Bernie had disappeared through. It slid apart without hesitation, on some sort of track, like some sort of dojo door. Bernie Wolfe was at the window, her chair facing away from them. She had her back to them and was staring out, listening to some classical piece or other. Serena felt sure she knew it from somewhere. 

"That’s me done, Major. You want anything before I go?"

"No. Thank you, Morven."

"I’ll leave you in Ms Campbell's capable hands, then. I'll see you lunchtime!" And with that, Morven put on her coat. Serena watched with a rising sense of apprehension as the human _buffer_ made ready to leave. Morven grinned at Serena, then back at Bernie, like the two were going to suddenly be best of friends as soon as she left. Serena wanted to swat her round the head for it and then politely ask for a vat of coffee. "Have fun, you two!" 

And then she was gone. Serena went to the kitchen island; all open planned so she could still see through into the room where Bernie was. Serena took off her handbag and put it down, and then tugged off her cardigan, folding it over a stool, before returning to the mouth of the room, hesitant to go through, as if that'd break some secret rule.  
Bernie continued to stare out of the window as if Serena wasn't even there.

"Define intermittent?" Serena said, finally, when the silence became unbearable.

"Alternator might be cactus." Serena couldn't see Bernie's expression, but was pretty sure it was with an air of condensation; as if she should very well know that it's her bloody alternator. Serena looked away.

"Do you- do you want a cup o' tea?" 

"No thank you." 

"Coffee, then? I can't do anything fancy. It's just coffee. Strong and hot."

"No hot beverages for me, just now, Ms Campbell."

"Oh, please, call me Serena."

"Will it help?" Bernie asked, dryly. Serena opened her mouth, blinking stupidly. She looked down at her practical shoes.

"Right, well, I was just being polite."

"Absolutely no need." Bernie turned to look at Serena. Her eyes were unreadable, her expression blank. The tips of her fringe were touching dark eyelashes. She turned away. So much for being friends then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say thanks so much for the reception that this fic has had so far! It is based on the book 'Me Before You' which is just fabulous and I advise everyone to read it. I've been able to find a copy online, so it makes it easier than lugging my paperback around with me! 
> 
> I will try and reply to reviews, but I am super busy so I'll try and do it from this point on. And if there are any moments you want to happen and stuff... well, I'd love to hear them!
> 
> Heather x


	4. Chapter 4

Serena sat at the kitchen island, steadily progressing her way at the great, big binder that Morven had left. It was full of routines and procedures, instructions and drug information. It was like an A-Z of quadriplegia, colour coded and indexed... and was as thick as the Yellow Pages. Serena scratched the back of her neck absentmindedly, and her gaze wandered again over to the window where Bernie was still gazing out. She'd not said a word since their first and last exchange. It was truly excruciating.

Her eyes went back again to the pages. Wheelchair maintenance. She turned the page. Blew out a breath. Thought about making a cup of tea. But that would make noise and somehow, Serena thought that might be akin to blasphemy. The safety of the kitchen was hers, but Bernie loomed an ever-present thought. There might be a heated exchange if she were to destroy the tentative peace now.

Serena closed the binder with a soft, quiet thud. She pulled out her mobile phone and thumped out a message to her friend. Raf DiLucca had spent some time at the clinic when he was training. They struck up an odd friendship given the age gap. But they bonded over failed marriages and Dr. Shiraz, and so Serena had enjoyed having a friend.  
She'd called Raf after getting the job, so he was fully up to speed. They didn't get to meet up personally very often. He'd moved up to the City, to the main hospital to continue his career. But his family was from here, and whenever it was time for a 'Di Lucca get-together', they made sure to meet up for a drink.

The text was written quickly and efficiently: _This is awful. She hates me._

The reply came back within seconds.

 _You have only been there an hour, you wuss! Get a grip and think of the hourly rate. That's an order,_ Ms _Campbell._

Serena snapped her mobile shut, the small rectangular device playing between her hands as she blew out her cheeks and thought on it. Raf had a point, and Serena had never been a quitter. Though ' _think of the hourly rate_ ' had a horrible ring of 'l _ie back and think of England_ ' - both had ties to horrible and mortifying experiences you rather wished were over.

Serena decided to get busy. She went through the laundry basket in the bathroom, but not before spending a good minute checking out the hoist. It was an odd looking piece, but curiosity won out. But finally, she turned her attention to gathering the pitiful amount of dirty laundry and then spent some time checking the instructions for the washing machine. It was a far cry from her juddering machine at home. Serena wanted to make sure she wasn't going to flood the place with bubbles and soap. That, and she was sure that misprogramming the thing would prompt another scathing look from Bernie; pursed lips and deep eyes.

Next, she vacuumed. It was one of the only legitimate things she could do. The place was already practically spotless. There was barely anything to do. But Serena liked the housework, and liked that, unlike her own home, she wasn't thinking of all the things she needed to do. If she were to do a list of chores for this place, she could probably do it and not add a single thing whilst in progress.

Serena hesitated, just a bit, outside Bernie's room, but chastised herself. It needed cleaning as much as anywhere else. There was a built-in shelf unit along one side, upon which sat around twenty framed photographs. Serena vacuumed around the bed, and along the sides of the room and the rug. Then she switched it off, unable to resist having a quick look. Her hair tilted a little bit as she studied the photos of Bernie and her family. A hand drew up to play on her necklace, the elbow resting on the ledge made by her other arm.

There was Bernie in a graduates outfit, looking young. Med school graduation, Serena guessed. Multiple ones of her in a hospital bed, holding children. One of her with a toddler on her hip. There was a woman who might have been Bernie in a helicopter. One where she was in battle fatigue, two teenagers by her side. Mr Dunn; carefree and laughing, and the other, which Serena guessed as the sister... Charlotte? She was long and lithe with long blonde hair the shade of her mother's.

There she was, in the battlefield, with sand in her eyes but a grin on her face. One of her with another woman, laughing, in full military fatigues and a beret on her head as they tucked into lunch. One of her in her regiment, standing straight at the back. Another of Bernie Wolfe, at base camp. Her jacket was off and she wore a dark green, short-sleeved t-shirt with a stethoscope around her neck, just sitting down at the front of a tent. He hair was less curly, her fringe tamed as it was all drawn back into a practical ponytail. Her skin was tanned and far more freckled than the pale skin she sported back in jolly England. She had lean muscles, born of hardened physicality and exercise that must be a necessity in her line of work. Past line of work. What had Mr Dunn said?

An IED. Explosion. These photographs made it look like she was a doctor, not just a soldier. Serena picked up the frame, to get a closer look. The woman in the chair was a _ghost_ compared to this woman.

"Afghanistan. Two and a half years ago." The voice came out of the blue and Serena let out a small shriek and nearly dropped the frame. Her mood instantly switched to irritable.

"Can you wear louder wheels, please!" Serena bit out but then retreated, realising who she was talking to as Bernie wheeled more into the room. Serena blushed. "I'm sorry- I was just..."

"Looking through my photos? Probably wondering how awful it must be to live like that and then turn into an invalid who can't even get out of bed by herself." Bernie bit out, scathingly.

"No." Serena blushed even more furiously.

"The rest of my photographs are in the bottom drawer if you find yourself overcome with...  _curiosity_ again," she said. And then with a low hum, the wheelchair turned to the right, and Bernie disappeared, leaving Serena standing there like an utter lemon.

Finally, she remembered how to move and packed the vacuum away again.

*******

At eleven, after what seemed like days to Serena, filled with five-minute tasks and fifteen-minute intervals of just staring at the clock, it was pill time. Serena gave Bernie a beaker of water and her anti-spasm medication, as Morven had requested. Serena placed the pill on her tongue and then offered her the beaker, as Morven had instructed. It took Bernie some effort, so much so that Serena was sure she'd got it wrong. But, finally, it was down, and he signaled for Serena to leave her be.

Serena nearly ran out of the room.

She dusted some shelves that didn’t really need dusting, and contemplated cleaning some windows. The whole annex was silent, stifling. Serena; usually an extrovert who loved a good natter, and was social at the best of times, was off kilter in the environment. All she could hear was the hum of a television in the living room where Bernie was. Serena couldn't even identify what the show was. Serena had the feeling if she asked Bernie, she'd only get a raised eyebrow in return. And not the teasing sort. More like one she'd received if she'd just dribbled down the front of her blouse.

At twelve thirty, Morven came back. Serena had never been so happy to see someone in her life. "Is it going okay?" Morven asked kindly, a hand on Serena's arm.

Serena tried not to betray herself; _calm professional, Campbell._ "Yes, thanks. Fine."

"Great. You can take a half-hour now. The Major and I have a few things to do at this time of the day." Serena didn't ask what they were. Instead, she almost ran for her coat. She needed to collect herself. Needed to get out. It was only when she was outside, her cardigan back in place and her handbag on her shoulder that she realised... her  _car._ It was still in the drive. She couldn't get anywhere in that. And there were no cafes nearby; she'd been planning on driving for lunch. There was a petrol station that was a few minutes drive away: they had sandwiches. 

Instead, Serena turned and headed into the expansive gardens, turning her face out of the wind and grabbing her gloves from her pocket. Blimey, it was bitter today. Finally, she reached a bench that looked well enough to sit on, suitably out of view of the main house, so that there was no chance of Bernie or of Mr Dunn judging her faults as she all but curled into herself dialed Raf.

"Hey." Serena said into the phone. Raf's Scottish voice answered back, with it's reassuring lilt.

"Serena! You know I can't talk at work. The ward is  _manic_ today. You've not walked out, have you?"

"Nope. Just needed to hear a friendly voice."

"Blimey, that bad?"

"She hates me."

"No? Someone hate Serena Campbell, I don't believe it. You could charm the pants off of anyone."

"Thank you for the vote of confidence, Raf, but she looks at me like I just wet myself."

"O'ch _._ " Serena could see Di Lucca wince in her mind's eye.

"I don't know if I can stick this..."

"Just talk to her, Serena. Of course, she's miserable. She;s stuck in a bloody wheelchair and you're there looking worried probably." Serena took her hand away from her necklace. Damn it, Di Lucca knew her too well. "Talk to her, get to know her. What's the worst that can happen? Besides, you need this job." 

Raf was right. Serena now hated Raf.

"You so owe me a large red when you come back to the Village, Di Lucca."

"Deal. I've got to go." Raf signed off, and Serena debated calling Robbie, before just staring at her phone for the last 20 minutes of her lunch break. 

*******

"So would you like to go somewhere this afternoon? We could drive somewhere if you like." Morven had been gone for almost half an hour. Serena was trying to make friends with Bernie. Bernie was still just staring out of the window, but Serena's voice made her turn her head towards her. 

"Where did you have in mind?" She asked,curiosity lilting her gravitating tones. Serena was drying the mugs from Morven's visit. The towel twisted in her hands.

"I don’t know. Just a drive in the country?" 

"The country," she said, as if considering it. "And what would we see. Some trees? Some sky?"

"I don’t know. What do you normally do?" Serena tried. Bernie's eyes glazed over, contemplating this before they returned to the moment, brown orbs hardening into beech wood.

"I don’t do anything, Ms Campbell. I can’t do anything any more. I sit. I just about exist." Bernie replied. Serena was unsure how to respond to that. All those things, in the photographs... she couldn't do those anymore. Her kids were grown up. Her army days, her doctoring days were behind her. Serena realised how utterly lonely in must be to be Bernie Wolfe.

"Well," Serena said, attempting to sound upbeat and professional. "I was told that you have a car that’s adapted for wheelchair use?"

"And you’re worried that it will stop working if it doesn’t get used every day?"

"No, but I –"

"Are you telling me I should go out?" Bernie interrupted with the humored tone of someone who had been told the same over and over again to no possible avail. Serena flushed, turning away to avoid Bernie's gaze, and to reach up into the cupboards and put the now clean mugs away.

"I just thought –"

"You thought a little drive would be good for me? A breath of fresh air?" Serena turned back.

"I’m just trying to –’

"Ms Campbell, my life is not going to be significantly improved by a drive dull, grey, country lanes and the odd _sheep_." She threw it out like an insult.This time it was Bernie's turn to turn away with a low hum of her chair. Silence reigned once more.

"Do you want me to bring you your computer?" Serena ventured. Bernie didn't turn back around, but she did answer, in the same tired voice.

"Why, have you thought of a good quadriplegic support group I could join? Quads R Us? The Tin Wheel Club?"

Serena took a deep breath, moving around the kitchen island _barrier_ and closer to Bernie. Serena could see her face reflected in the window. "Okay … well … seeing as we’re going to spend all this time in each other’s company perhaps we could get to know something about each other –"

Bernie just stared straight ahead. Her fringe fell over her eyes, their piercing gaze now directed straight onto the failing light outside, the tow truck collecting Serena's car. Her jaw ticked, flexed as if she was biting back her tongue. 

"It’s just … it’s quite a long time to spend with someone. All day," Serena continued. "Perhaps if you could tell me a little of what you want to do, what you like, then I can … make sure things are as you like them?" A pause. Then Bernie wheeled around, slowly, deliberately. Her face had returned to the blank slate.

"Here’s what I know about you, Ms Campbell. My son says you're 'charming'." She said it like it was an affliction. "Let's make a deal. Whereby you are very much 'uncharming' around me. Keep to your duties, get paid and swan off, Ms Campbell. That's all you need to do. _Your job_. We're not here to play friends, become besties or have girly chats. You're here to give me drugs and to make sure I don't choke. Are we clear?" Serena swallowed, feeling her face flame.

"Fine," Serena said, stiffly, and nodded. "I’ll be in the kitchen. Next time you want a tea... or a coffee... or a chat you should... just call me."

Oh yes it was all going  _brilliantly._ Serena tried not to flinch as the hum of the wheelchair struck up again and Bernie left for the living room.


	5. Chapter 5

Two weeks passed and with them emerged a routine of sorts. Serena got her car fixed and was able to turn up promptly every morning at eight. She never did tell Bernie that it, in fact, had been the alternator that had packed in. Not that they engaged in much conversation; besides the odd biting comment and the wish to be left alone.

But every day, without fail, Serena would muster up resolve, walk to the annex, open the door and call out she was there. After Morven had finished dressing Bernie, Serna would listen carefully to the young professional as she outlined what she needed to know about Bernie's medications today- or, more importantly, her mood.

After Morven had left Serena would program the radio or television for Bernie, dispense her pills by waiting patiently as she tried to swallow them. Serena tried to engage Bernie in conversation; asking about what was on the telly or on the radio. Somehow though Serena always came out thinking she'd gotten it wrong. Fifty-one years and now suddenly unable to carry a conversation? She hadn't even recognised the Beatles, and she had their albums at home! 

The two women alternated between pregnant pauses and awkward remarks that usually ended with Bernie telling Serena she didn't have time to chat, she was too busy sitting. Or some comment like that. And Serena would slink out, mouth opening and closing as she tried to think of something she could have possibly said to have made that go better.

At that point, Serena would turn her hand to the chores; washing tea towels that weren’t dirty, or using random vacuum attachments to clean tiny bits of skirting or window sill, religiously popping her head round the door every fifteen minutes as Mr Dunn had instructed.

And every time she did, Bernie would be sitting in her chair looking out towards the bleak garden.

Later, Serena might take her a drink of water, or one of those calorie-filled drinks that looked like puke made of crayons but where _supposed_ to be good for keeping her muscles a-okay. Or it would be meal time, and Serena would have to feed Bernie. She couldn't move her arms, merely her hands, a little, so Serena had to feed Bernie, forkful by forkful. To do that was agony, for them both, and neither would meet the others eye as it happened. They just got through it, and then Serena would retreat to the kitchen to wash up.

Shortly before one, Morven would arrive for daily exercises and Serena could escape. She would eat sandwiches on the bench she'd found at her first day. She'd call Jason at 1.15 every day, promptly, enjoying the chats immensely. It was a welcome break from _silence_.

"She sounds lonely," Jason said one day, as Serena had just finished telling him about her day so far. It hadn't been a riveting day by anyone's standard. But Jason's honest words made her pause her back sag against the bench and her eyes move towards the great shadow of the house.

"Yes, Jason. I rather think she is." Serena agreed. 

"You should tell her what you tell me," Jason said, as if it were logical. Serena smiled at the earnest tone.

"Really? What's that?"

"That she's okay. You're okay. And the world can go round." He said it with such confidence that made Serena beam with pride. 

"You know what? I think I might just try that." Serena's heart warmed at her nephew. She chatted to him a moment more before signing off, after being reminded that it would be fish and chips night when Alan dropped him off tomorrow for tea. Serena grinned and assured him she'd get him an _extra-large_  chips. 

In the afternoon, Serena would put a DVD on for Bernie. New ones came in the post all the time, but she never stayed with Bernie to watch it, nor was she asked. Instead, she'd go out and sit, often with a book or a newspaper. She'd make up her shopping list for the week or think about appointments she needed to make. It felt odd; like she wasn't actually working and she hated that feeling. It gnawed at her thoughts, so that she ended up writing _'bread'_ down three times before realizing her mistake.

Occasionally, at the end of the day, Mr Dunn would pop in, clad in his usual shirt and tie. He was a surgeon at the local hospital and worked long hours. Though somehow, Serena though that this was used far more as an excuse than was strictly true. He would enter, somewhat nervously, and go through his routine of asking after Bernie, if she was okay, and Serena would reply with the acceptable "Yes."

And then he would disappear again. He didn't hold an actual conversation with his mother. Serena would just watch, lamely as he left, and then her gaze would flash to Bernie, who had turned around... as if expecting this time something would change. She would soon wheel back to stare at the garden.

*******

Serena started to study Bernie Wolfe. There was not much to do, and in the first couple of weeks, Bernie Wolfe presented a puzzle, a mystery for her to solve. She seemed to look so far removed from the woman in the photos that it was a shock to Serena; the hair that had once been vibrant curls now seemed like dull waves, grown too long. She hid her brown eyes behind that blonde fringe as if it were a shield. A visor, to keep the world out. Wrinkles dotted her face, tell-tale lines of age that Serena recognized from her own- the crow's feet and the frown lines. She wondered, as she fed Bernie and studied the creases around her mouth, what it'd be like to hear the woman laugh.

Instead, she was greeted with the expression of constant exhaustion. Bernie bore the hollow look of someone who was always a few steps removed from the world around her. Sometimes Serena wondered if it was a defence mechanism, whether the only way to cope with her life was to pretend it wasn’t her it was happening to. Serena wondered if Bernie thought much about the events in those photographs: dreamed of desert sands and gunfire. She wondered how much of the haunted look in Bernie's eyes was due to _that_ , rather than the chair.

All in all; Serena knew that Bernie had been through a lot. Family, war, injury and now the indignity that Serena viewed every day: being stuck in that chair, the loss of physical freedom, and a never-ending litany of indignities and health problems, of risks and discomforts. Serena knew if she were Bernie... she'd be pretty miserable too. So Serena didn't begrudge her when all Bernie wanted to do was stare out into the garden. Into a world that seemed such a world away to the lonely woman in the chair.

But whenever a sliver of pity hit her heart, Bernie would do something. Be vile. Be sarcastic. Be utterly sharp so much so that Serena feared a papercut to her confidence when even stepping into the same room. Everything she did seemed to be wrong. Serena was quite sure she might possibly hate Bernie Wolfe. She was quite sure Bernie knew that too. 

So she kept her face blank. Schooled her features. Replied politely, if a little stiffly, if a little falsely. The battle of wills raged on as Serena fought to keep her composure. It was just six months. She could do this for six months. Serena fought to keep the job, but Bernie seemed intent on wanting her to quit it. 

*******

About two weeks in, Serena was mixing up Bernie's mid-morning, high-calorie drink. She heard Bernie's voice, filtering through the closed door of the living room, and stilled. It wasn't directed at her. It was mid-conversation. She must be taking a call or something, the other voice on the end muffled by distance and the door. But Bernie's rang out, loud and clear.

"Marcus- I've said, we can't tell them," Bernie was all but... pleading? Serena didn't move an inch, perturbed by the usually strong and cutting woman now all but breaking down. "Irreconcilable differences- we _agreed_ ...yes, I know... I know what I did... This isn't about Alex anymore... how many times do I have to say-..." Anger was now filtering through into her harsh tones. " _Oh piss off, Marcus._ " The conversation ended.

Marcus? Who was Marcus? Serena had never met a Marcus before. Mind you, it wasn't like Bernie to have visitors. Ever. There was just Mr Dunn and Morven and, well, and herself, really. And never mind an Alex, she had no clue who that was. Should she ask Mr Dunn? Curiosity niggled at her innards. But the drink was mixed, and she couldn't hide in the kitchen forever. 

She knocked. 

"Come in." Came the withdrawn voice of Bernie. She sounded tired. Serena pulled back the door and entered cautiously with the vibrantly coloured drink. Bernie had her eyes closed. Nostrils flared. Serena knew the expression- it being the same one she used after pretty much any phone call with darling Edward. Minus the darling part.

"I got you this." Serena said, lamely. Bernie opened her eyes, and her gaze zoned on the drink. Her lip curled. She hated those drinks. Tasted as sweet as they looked and were utterly vile. 

"Thank you." Bernie said, eyes guarded now as Serena held the drink up for her to gulp down. After the task was done, Serena stayed... _hovering_. Bernie met her gaze. 

"Are you- you all right?" Serena asked. 

"In my physical or mental well-being, Ms Campbell? I can assure you neither are on peak form."

"I was only asking." Serena fired back, patience tried and tested. 

"And was it needed?" Bernie fired back. Serena let out a breath.

"I guess not." She turned away, intending to head back into the kitchen and was what measly amount of cups there were. Bernie watched her go, watch her leave her line of sight. Then words came out, in a rush; one great gasp of air.

"Do you have a family?" Bernie asked her. Serena looked back, pausing in the doorway, surprised by the turn of events. Eventually, she moved, going over to the sofa and sitting on the arm rest; comfy enough to chat but not presuming it would be a long one. She didn't 'make herself comfortable'.

"Ah, well, if you count a boyfriend who I hardly see, a grown up daughter who only ever rings when she wants something, an unfortunate ex-husband and a charming, if rather challenging nephew then... yes, I have a family." Serena issued.   
Bernie almost seemed caught off-guard by this. It was certainly the most Serena had ever said to her in one breath. There was a pause. It wasn't uncomfortable. Both women seemed to be figuring each other out. Should Bernie say more? Explain? Did either of them want that to happen?

"That was my ex." Bernie said, finally. She broke the eye contact that had briefly been held. Serena raised her eyebrows in surprise. So, that's who Marcus was. Marcus Dunn: the ex-husband. She'd gained snippets of the history from Morven, but pretended to be none the wiser.

"Husband?" She queried. And if Bernie could squirm, she would have done so then, turning her head fully away from Serena, out into the garden, as if she could pretend that Serena wasn't even there.

"Cameron and Charlotte's father." She clarified, but the unspoken agreement hung in the room. This was the man that Bernie had divorced, two months after she had first been injured. Morven had told Serena; it was his house, his family money but Cameron took care of that side of things now. Marcus had moved into the city, closer to his work and away from Bernie. Serena didn't know why they had divorced, but knew that Marcus couldn't be a total jerk- for he'd let Bernie stay in here, with her quadriplegia. On the other hand, the man might be like Edward, and the annex a pretty gift to assuage his guilt. 

Who was Serena Campbell to judge, hm?

"I take it things are tense."

"Could be better. Divorced." Bernie said, by way of explanation.

"Ah. The house?"

"His dead mothers."

"Assets?"

"Split." The one-word answer was bitten out and Serena almost gave a chuckle at the recognizable emotions that came straight from 'the embittered ex-wives club'. Serena herself being a paid-up member, of course. 

"State of mind?" She asked, humored.

"Bloody furious." A whisper of a smile. But then it fell. Serena nodded, realising that _peacetime_ was over. She got up from the armrest and pointed to the sound system.

"Radio?" She liked the radio when it was a bad day.

"Four, please." Bernie consented.

"Of course." She programmed Radio Four and the room was soon filled with sounds of violins. Serena went to leave when Bernie called out again.

"Ms Campbell? I'd ask you not to tell Cam about anything you might have... _heard_. I can stop him worrying about that at least." She sounded worried. Dear God, this woman might actually be _human_. Serena gave a benevolent smile and nodded.

"Don't worry. I can keep a secret." Serena closed the door behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your continued support. And for those interested, I swear, I haven't forgotten my other fics! xxx


	6. Chapter 6

And then Bernie Wolfe closed herself off again. Serena would hear her sometimes, on the phone, talking or shouting at Marcus. Sometimes, Mr Dunn would come in, watch a film with his mother, looking a bit more like the young man he was, rather than the eminent surgeon he portrayed. They'd watch it in silence, and Serena could be able to see them through the window in the door. And sometimes, just sometimes, Bernie would be looking at Mr Dunn like the saddest person in the whole wide world; melancholy and wistful. It made Serena think of her daughter. It seemed the only time that Mr Dunn and Bernie acted like mother and son.

Serena didn't know that it was. Bernie and Cameron had a trying relationship. Ever since she'd come back from the RAMC, Bernie had closed herself off. She'd lost a calling, her second family, and the one she was left with was disjointed and built on lies. She loved her kids, loved them fiercely, but couldn't help but feel redundant. After all, they were grown, she'd barely been around and now what? She was useless in that chair. Bernie tore her gaze away from her son, trying to focus on the film. After a moment, her gaze went to the door, through the glass of the entryway and saw Serena humming as she mopped the kitchen. Bernie's jaw clenched. She could never be some sort of housewife, some domestic goddess. She couldn't be a shoulder to cry on. 'Mother' was an empty title to Berenice Wolfe.

One day, Serena was putting some washing away as Bernie hung up with Marcus, muttering under her breath. Serena balanced the basket of folded clothes on her hip, walking so she went past the chair. A hand went on the blonde woman's shoulder, briefly, before she carried on and put on the music that Serena knew Bernie liked. She liked to be alone after chats with the ex-husband.

"You know, when Edward and I divorced he said _you'll never find anyone like me_. I said _yes, that's the point_." 

Bernie nearly smiled. Serena counted that as a victory.

*******

Serena was busy hoovering when Mr Dunn came into the kitchen. He wore an expression of worry, knitting his young face into one of intent and direct responsibility. He stood in the middle of the floor, looking very much out of place. Serena switched the hoover off. She had the odd feeling of being summoned.

"Everything alright, Mr Dunn?" Serena asked after a pause. He looked at her, as if only just realising she was actually there.

"Mum's... got a visitor. A friend of hers, from the army." He explained. Serena tried to take the news in her stride but she'd been working there three weeks now and seen hide nor hair of any possibility of a visitor. And Bernie Wolfe? A friend? For a friendship to occur, the woman would have to be pleasant, and actually, hold a conversation. "It would probably be best if you –" He trailed off.

"I can make coffee? Or tea!" Serena jumped at the chance, knowing that after the hoovering, she would have no choice but check in on Bernie. "And I can be scarce if you'd like."

"Coffee. That would be really good, thanks. And, erm, it's been a while since they've seen each other I think. I only know her in passing..." It was times like this that Serena felt the urge to call Mr Dunn ' _Cameron_ ', for he seemed much too young to be a _'Mr_ _Dunn'_. Serena guessed that Bernie didn't get many visitors. 

A knock on the annex door rang out from the hallway. 

"Right, I'll get that. Could you put the hoover away and, and start on the coffee. Then I'll leave you to it." Mr Dunn asked and Serena nodded, already winding the cord up. Mr Dunn crossed over to the hallway and paused at the foot of the door, calling back to Serena. "Alex. It's Alex Dawson. Her old friend; an anaesthetist."

"Right." She said, bluntly. Serena got the feeling that this was in some way momentous, and that he needed to share it with someone, even if it was just her.

"Coffee would be brilliant. Thank you, Ms Campbell." And he left to go and greet the momentous and mysterious Alex. Serena was picturing some big, beefy anesthetist with bulging muscles and a tan. Probably tattoos. 

Serena put the hover back in the laundry room with the rest of the cleaning equipment. It meant that Alex had been past and was in the room with Bernie. Serena knew as the doors to the living room were now closed.

She hummed to herself as she worked on making the coffee, grabbing cups and putting them on a tray. Serena hesitated a moment before she opened the door, leaning against it with her hip so that she could balance the tray in her hands.

"Mr Dunn said you might like some coffee." She said as she entered, placing the tray on the low table.

She took Bernie's coffee; strong and hot, and placed it in the holder of her chair, turning the straw so that she only needed to adjust her head position to reach it. Whilst doing this, Serena got a look at the visitor; Alex.

_Blimey!_ She was younger than expected, and a woman! Not at all like Serena had pictured, she looked about mid-30s, maybe just turned 40? Honestly, Serena was clueless. It wasn't like she could count the wrinkles and conduct an interview. Alex was long-legged, with short brown hair and slightly tanned complexion. She was sat on the opposing sofa, just sitting down from having kissed Bernie on the cheek. They were very close. Her knees almost touching Bernie's, and her hands knitted in her lap in a way that Serena could just see the lithe muscles that were hidden underneath that jacket.

Serena realized with a jolt that she was the woman in the army photographs, the ones with Bernie smiling so broadly. The woman by her side in the helicopter. She also, Serena clocked, looking very, very uncomfortable, smiling awkwardly.

"You look well," Alex told Bernie. "Really. You've ... you've changed your hair." She reached a hand up to tuck a strand behind Bernie's ear. Bernie tilted her head to the opposite way. Serena couldn't make up her mind whether it was to give the other woman better access to tuck away the blond lock, or it was to pull away from the human contact.

Either way, Bernie didn't say a thing. Serena poured coffee out of the pot into the mug. Bernie was just looking at Alex, her expression unreadable but eyes full of... something. Bernie was a tough nut to crack, a difficult book to read... whatever cliche you like.

After pouring the coffee (Alex gave a nod of thanks towards her), Serena just stood there, slightly close to the wall, out of the way, shifting from one foot to another.

"So," Serena attempted to break the silence. "How do you know each other?"

"Royal Army Medical Corps." Alex perked up. Only slightly. "We were attached to the same unit. In fact, we were blown up by the same IED."

"Well, I'm guessing you got off a bit more lightly?" Serena attempted to jest. Bernie's expression didn't change.

"Barely a scratch." Alex continued. "Managed to get Bern' to safety and _probably_ saved her life. So you could say, we've been through a lot together." Ambiguous and Bernie turned her head sharply away at that. Serena had been studying Bernie's ticks. And she knew that she was finding this visit very difficult. Also; who the hell called Bernie 'Bern'? Sounded ridiculous.

"Serena, would you mind putting some more logs on the fire? I think it needs building up a bit." Bernie's voice broke the silence. It broke on the first syllable. Bernie cleared her throat. 

It was the first time Bernie had ever called Serena by her first name.

"Sure," She said, and knelt by the log burner, stoking the fire and sorting through the basket for logs of the right size. She then left to go and collect more, pausing and placing a hand on Bernie's shoulder. Serena didn't know why. Perhaps... reassurance? Either way: Bernie didn't flinch.

Serena was back very quickly with a basket of logs from the store, to hear the tail-end of a conversation.

"- Don't worry, Bern. Your secret is safe with me." Serena knocked on the door before entering, the basket heavy in her hands. Alex pulled back from Bernie, resting back on the sofa. "Thanks, erm- sorry, what was your name?" It was directed at Serena.

"Serena." Bernie answered for her. It almost sounded protective. Alex's gaze went to Bernie then back to Serena, as if trying to work something out. But Serena didn't see that, as she poked glowing logs with the poker.

"Well, it's good to have a proper fire," Alex said. There was a pause. "Lovely coffee as well, Serena. Thank you." The fire crackled as Serena shut the door of the log burner. Alex turned back to Bernie, her eyes going soft. "So, what have you been up to, eh, Bern?"

"Not much." 

"But the physio and stuff. Is it all coming on? Any … improvement?" Even Serena knew this was a stupid question to ask; both of the women before her had gone to medical school and Serena's internet search of Bernie's condition had revealed that.

"I'll not be doing any cartwheels anytime soon, Alex." Bernie said, dryly, voice dripping with sarcasm. Serena almost chuckled at the humour, a small and guilty smile playing on her rouged lips. Alex, however, flinched. 

Silence fell again as Serena brushed ash from the hearth. Everything about the situation felt forced. Even the silence. The weight of things that should be said or wanted to be said by any party hung in the air.

"So … " Bernie said finally. "To what do I owe this pleasure? It’s been … eight months? Here I thought you'd turned civilian." The word sounded like a curse in Bernie'a mouth: the scorn, and the bitterness of a woman thrown a curveball and chucked from comfort.

"I'm on leave. Actually... I've left. Did one two more tours after you went but I don't think I've got another in me. Besides," A cheeky grin. "We should all go for new challenges when we can."

"Oh yes, I agree, entirely." Bernie was cruel now. The air seemed to be sucked from the room, everyone with the same thought: Bernie's whole life was a challenge. A new challenge. Bernie's jaw tightened, and Alex averted her gaze. Serena coughed. 

"I- I'll... I'm just going to fetch more logs." Serena muttered at Bernie. They didn't make eye contact. And the fire was still crackling nicely. Serena couldn't get out of there fast enough. She was an intruder, so she grabbed the basket, which was still half full, and fled. 

Almost immediately, Serena regretted her decision. It was bloody freezing outside. But still, she lingered, pondering on the conversation, on Alex, and on Bernie. She picked out pieces of wood, remembering Bernie's dark humour, her expression when biting out the name of her ex-husband, the reaction of Alex and the snippet she'd overheard when getting logs the last time: some sort of secret? Serena knew it was none of her business, but can't blame a girl for being curious, can you?

Still; she had no wish to go back inside and awkwardly ask if anyone wanted more coffee. Dear God, the way Mr Dunn had made it sound, they were supposed to be old friends, and yet they were barely looking at one another! Serena prided herself on being a people person. She'd chatted to enough people at the clinic to carry a conversation, but Bernie with an enigma. She couldn't _crack_ her. Maybe she was like this with everyone? Or maybe, as soon as Serena runs out of the room suddenly Bernie opens up and Alex and her were in there chatting away and rambling, and so on and so forth.

But Serena bloody doubted it. No doubt it was frostier in there than it was in a log store in the middle of January.

Eventually, she had to go back in. She entered the annex as slowly and quietly as possible, hearing Alex's voice filtering through;

"Actually, Bern', there is another reason that I came." She was saying. "You know me. I don't like loose ends... and I... have some news." Serena froze, hesitating by the door. "I thought it would be right to let you know, given we... given  _us._ But, well, here's the thing. I'm getting married."

Holy mother of pain au raisins. Bernie and Alex? Finally, the pieces slotted together and Serena's hands unconsciously tightened on the handles of the log basket, her body stock still. Bernie and Alex. Of course, how had she not seen? The intimate displays of affection from the brunette, the strained talks with Marcus, the secret... _all of that_... was because Bernie and Alex had been an item. Serena suddenly felt like such a fool. All the signs... it took her back to when Edward had cheated on her, how idiotic she had felt, how stupid, how silly. And here Serena had blabbed on about her own divorce when Bernie must have cheated on Marcus, back in the RAMC. She blinked back imaginary tears. God, she must've looked so _stupid_.

Alex continued, her confidence obviously wavered, judging from the tone of her voice. "Look, I know this is probably a shock to you, Bern'. It was to me, to be honest. But she-she's really wonderful. It only started a really long time after..." Serena wondered if she could possibly ask the sky fairy to swallow her up, please and thank you. "After you and I, and all the..."

Silence fell again.

"Bern'? Please say something." Alex asked, pleading.

"Congratulations," Bernie said, finally. The words were laboured, heavy, thick with false optimism almost; the pained tone of a woman who had just had a blow to the gut but didn't want to anyone to know that she might actually  _care._ Inside the room, what Serena couldn't see, was that her complexion had turned white. Bernie didn't know why it hurt so much. Alex and she hadn't been together in well over a year, had barely seen each other in months. Perhaps it was because Bernie had loved her. Perhaps it was jealousy that Alex could escape, and move on. 

Serena had to go in, her arms were killing her. She entered, silently and kept her gaze away from Bernie. She didn't want to fall pray to pitying another human being who was capable of cheating. She needed to prove she had learned something from Edward.

"You said you needed me to know...what I wanted." Bernie broached, not wanting to say too much in front of Serena, who'd she'd heard come in. Alex still had her knees touching Bernie's, a hand now resting on the woman's knee. Bernie was staring down at it as if it was some sort of foreign object. Serena topped up the fire. Bernie looked up from the hand, into Alex's eyes. The sort of eyes that once upon a time, she'd got lost in them. In the heat, and the burlap and the desert... they'd tried, even after the accident. But Bernie had changed, she'd tried with Marcus, she'd avoided Alex, she'd... she'd been a coward. Both women knew that. Alex loved her fiancee, deeply and wholly and truly. Bernie was first and foremost a friend. Alex didn't like to see her like this. Serena noted her eyes were red-rimmed. She'd been crying. Her hand traced patterns on Bernie's knee. They were both remembering the conversation: Alex's ultimatum in one of Bernie's true dark periods. 

Alex didn't know that soon after that, Bernie had figured out what she did want. She had five months till she got it.

"Yes," Alex nodded, and she removed her hand from Bernie's knee, clasping it with her other. 

"I did. And I'm very happy for you and... her."

"Victoria." Alex offered. Bernie took a deep breath.

"But I'm fine. Thank you for coming and picking up the pieces, but rest assured I am very much of one mind." Her voice had lost the vulnerability again. It was clipped and flippant. Alex deflated, recognising the dismissal. She was also aware of what Bernie was talking about. What the one mind had decided. Serena meanwhile, had no clue of the implications and had stood up from the burning grate to collect cups.

"Bernie..." Alex tried. Bernie made her chair move backward, away from Alex. She turned to Serena with a motorized whirr. 

"Serena, can you show Alex to the door." 

"Of course. Erm-" Serena stood awkwardly between the two women.

"No, it's fine. It's fine. Goodbye, Bern'. Believe it or not, though, it would be nice for you to come."

Bernie said nothing. Alex placed an envelope (the invitation) on the mantlepiece. Alex had her head held high and left, zipping up her jacket midway up her torso. Serena let Alex out of the room, following her behind her. Alex looked emotionally drained. "Can I use the bathroom?" she said, her voice thick and choked.

Serena slowly lifted a finger and pointed mutely in its direction. Alex looked at Serena hard then. Serena must've been showing her feelings on her face. She'd never been much good at hiding her feelings, even when using a professional facade. Alex was more perceptive than most gave her credit.

"I know what you’re thinking," she said, after a pause. "Me, and Bern'. Cam doesn't know but... but it was real. I loved her. Always will in some way I suppose. And I did try, but she made choices. After the accident... made up in the happy bosom of her family. But I did try. I _really_ tried. For months. And she just pushed me away." Her jaw was rigid, her expression oddly furious. "She didn’t want me here. Even with the divorce, even with what we had... she made that very clear."

Alex seemed to be waiting for Serena to say something. To challenge her, to judge her, to offer a shoulder- Serena didn't know which.

"It's none of my business," Serena said, eventually, tight-lipped. Alex sighed. 

"You know, you can only actually help someone who wants to be helped," she said.

And then she was gone.

*******

Serena waited a couple of minutes, listening for the sound of Alex's car disappearing down the drive, and then she went into the kitchen. Her head was swimming as she reflected on the new view she had of Berenice Wolfe. Bernie Wolfe; cheater. Serena felt oddly betrayed by the woman she'd barely known a month. She stood there and boiled the kettle even though she didn’t want a cup of tea. She did however, want a Shiraz... _large_. But alas, she was working. Serena attempted to distract herself from the blonde in the next room. She flicked through a magazine that I had already read. Finally, she went back into the corridor with the intention of grabbing the leftover cups. Serena grabbed a spare tray, steeled herself and knocked before entering.

"I'm just here to-" Serena began.

But there was nobody there.

The room was empty.

_CRASH!_ Serena nearly jumped out of her skin as she heard the great clatter of noise. She let the tray slip from her fingers as she ran out into the corridor just in time to hear another, followed by the sound of splintering glass. It was coming from Bernie's bedroom. Serena's heart pounded.  _Please don't let her be hurt,_ Serena thought as she all but barrelled through the annex, panicked. Mr Dunn's warning echoed in her mind. She'd left Bernie alone for more than fifteen minutes. Serena ran down the corridor, slid to a halt in the doorway, both hands gripping the door frame. Bernie was in the middle of the room, bent forwards slightly in her chair, breathing hard, her mouth a hard line. A walking stick balanced across the armrests, so it jutted to her left- a jousting stick. There was not a single photograph left on the long shelves; the various frames were not littered, shattered, in pieces all over the floor, the carpet a hazardous trap as glittering shards of glass were embedded in all the fibers. Bernie's lap was dusted with bits of glass, and splintered frames.

It was a scene of destruction. Serena's wide eyes took that Bernie was unhurt, and felt her heart rate slowly subside.  _She wasn't hurt._ But Bernie's breathing was deep, her eyes closed, forehead crinkled and brows together; whatever she had done, as if it wasn't obvious, had cost her a lot of effort. Bernie raised her head, shaking her blonde curls from her eyes. She rounded the chair a little, more towards the doorway. The glass crunched under the wheels. Her eyes met Serena's. They were infinitely weary. They dared her to offer sympathy. Serena however, whatever her feelings towards Bernie's conduct with Alex, were merely conveying shock. 

She looked down at Bernie's lap, then at the floor around her. Serena could just make out that picture of the 'happy couple'; both laughing, miles above some wasteland or other in the helicopter. So removed from reality. Alex's face was now obscured by a shattered piece of a frame as it lay amongst the other casualties. Serena swallowed, and then met Bernie's gaze. The brown orbs stared back at her, unwavering, slightly bloodshot.

Seconds lasted days.

"Can that thing get a puncture?" Serena said, finally, nodding at Bernie's wheelchair. "Cause you've seen me with cars, and I have no idea what to do if you pop a tyre."

Her eyes widened. Just for a moment, Serena thought she'd blown it. But then: a flicker of a smile. Serena breathed easy.

"Look, don’t move," Serena said. "I’ll get the vacuum cleaner."

As Serena left the room, she thought she heard Bernie mutter, _whisper_ , a pitiful: "Sorry, S'rena."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the gap between updates. It's exam season I am afraid. Any scenes you want to see, or dialogue you want me to work in there, let me know, I am always happy to oblige. And thanks again for all the reviews xxx

Albie's was always busy on a Thursday evening. Packed with weary workers at the end of a long day, the odd family that couldn't be bothered to cook, or even a couple or two on a date. Serena herself was on... something like that. She sat, slightly squished in a corner booth, next to Robbie and a man whose name she hadn't caught- just knew that he was someone from the force, but introductions had not been made. Instead, Serena was trying to look as interested as possible as Robbie droned on, the talk around her chiefly revolving around police budget cuts or potential marathons that a bunch of them can do; these new-wave, mid-life crisis men embarking on fitness. Her eyes unfocused, eyeing the glass of red she was nursing. 

She managed to segway in between the horrid conversations with Robbie's friends, telling him all about her day, expecting him to nod and mumble at the right moments. He did, thank the lord, and it struck her that thanks to her new job and Robbie's regime, they didn't seem to see each other very much.

"It was awful," Serena told Robbie, trying to have a conversation that wasn't about bloody stab-proof vests or the weather conditions for a sunset jog after a shift. Serena vaguely wondered whether she could order a sundae without getting a death stare. In truth, she'd rather be curled up in bed, eating a whole pint of the stuff. "It's her old girlfriend, and she's getting married!" 

Serena wondered at what point she'd decided to draw a veil over the fact Bernie had cheated.

"You can’t blame her," he said. "Are you really telling me you’d stick around if I was paralyzed from the neck down?" Serena looked mildly affronted, the automatic reply quick to her lips.

"Of course I would." She professed. Robbie looked at her, almost doubtfully, down his nose.

"No, you wouldn’t. And I wouldn’t expect you to." He took a great gulp of his pint.

"Well, I would." And why would she not? Serena loved Robbie. He was kind, stable, fairly good with Jason when he did have to come over. He found her, Serena, attractive and sexy, even as the grey had started to set in and the proud woman had started to dye her hair. It was rare to find at her age; another shot, another chance.

"But I wouldn’t want you there. I wouldn’t want someone staying with me out of pity."

"Who says it would be pity? You’d still be the same person underneath."

"No, I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t be anything like the same person." He wrinkled his nose. "I wouldn’t want to live. Relying on other people for every little thing. Having strangers wipe your arse –"

A man with a shaved head thrust his head between us. "Robs," he said. Serena wrinkled her nose; Robs? "-you heard that Kenton got done in for being hungover on shift? Right state he was in as well, practically dribbling."

"Can’t say I have, mate. Give me a coffee after a hard night any day, and I'll be fit as a fiddle."

Serena raised a weak smile.

The Shaven-headed man disappeared and Robbie turned back to me, apparently still thinking on Bernie. Serena was pondering it as well, taking a delicate sip of her red wine. Bernie had seemed vulnerable today; rather than beforehand where it was all big, macho, army medic nonsense. "Jesus. Think of all the things you couldn’t do … " Robbie shook his head. "No more running, no more cycling. I couldn't do my job." He looked at Serena as if it had just occurred to him. "No more sex."

"Of course we could have sex. It’s just that I would have to get on top."

"We’d be stuffed, then."

"Funny." Serena deadpanned, and the shaven-headed man appeared again.

"You still getting in regular then, eh, Rob?"

"Not in front of the lady, mate." Robbie batted the bloke away, a grin curling his lips at the banter. Serena arched an eyebrow, not particularly liking the implication that as soon as Serena left, they would have a good heart to heart about their sex life. But, never a shy woman, Serena put on a slightly predatory smirk.

"Just because I am ever so slightly over 50, _does not mean I am dead from the waist down_."

That shut them up.

Serena took another sip of her red wine. But truly, she didn't understand Bernie's position. How could she? But pushing people away, Serena could well empathize. She'd had trouble in the past, after her mother died, with depression and low mood. Adriane had been a force of nature and Serena hadn't realised how much she meant till she was dead. She'd cut people off, lost some good friends because of it. Serena could well understand the need to push people away, especially in that situation- where your son was practically head of the house and you were living in your ex-husband's annex.

"Another drink?" Robbie asked. Serena looked at her glass. Empty.

"A Shiraz. Small glass," She said, as he raised an eyebrow. Robbie shrugged and headed to the bar, taking the glasses with him. Serena already wished she'd asked for another large. 

Serena had started to feel a little guilty about the way they were discussing the Dunn men and Wolfe woman. They were her employers after all, and Serena did honestly detest gossip. No, really! And Bernie probably had to endure it all the time, but it was impossible not to let the mind wander, especially after Serena's small word with Alex. Bernie Wolfe was a pickle of a person. _Infuriating_.

She took a large gulp of wine, and stared pitifully at her small glass.

*******

Serena walked into work the next day, vaguely hopeful for some of the frost to have thawed between them after yesterday. She came in after dropping Jason off at work, with a smile, and got in at eight o'clock, her red hemmed coat drawn up around her and her handbag over her shoulder. 

Breezing in, she instantly spotted Bernie, in her chair, looking out onto the garden today. Serena had started to keep an eye on weather reports; just to know what that view would be like. It was on when she drove in, nothing more than that. Today was mild, a few rays of sunshine over the even lawns. She greeted the woman with a smile, but she didn't even acknowledge her. Serena's file faltered. It seemed she was wrong about a fresh start.

"Sorry, Ms Campbell. Not a good day," Morven murmured, as she put on her coat, with a sympathetic smile. Serena's shoulders slumped. Of course, it wasn't. 

"Right." She uttered, lowly, giving a strained smile to the younger woman. Serena put her handbag down, and went over to fill the sink with water for the washing up. It was as she finished the washing up that the rain started the fall. Bloody typical, thought Serena. A thin spray soon turned into thick droplets as low-hanging clouds spat out their contents. It hit the windows with a loud noise. Made a change from the silence.  
Serena put down her rubber gloves and went over to Bernie.

"Do you want the radio on?" Serena asked, nicely, looking down at her. It was a ghastly noise that pitter-patter of constant rain.

"No." Bernie said, instantly, that Serena almost recoiled. 

"Right." Serena turned to leave.

"Thank you," Bernie replied, softly. Serena froze. Bernie had turned her head slightly, could see Serena's form in the reflection of the television. Serena's shoulders relaxed. Bernie looked down at her lap as Serena then walked out. The pitter-patter of rain as the soundtrack.

Serena got back to her jobs, the little interaction weighing on her mind. It shouldn't have surprised her, not really, that Bernie was worse on a day like this. Whatever had happened with Alex had gone, for all intents and purposes, badly. Never mind that they had shared a brief- what was it? A moment, afterward. Serena huffed, scrubbing at a dried bit of something on the hob furiously. 

Five months and thirteen working days to go.

*******

She finished the morning chores. Checked in on Bernie again. Nothing. She got nothing. Radio silence. So, Serena had brushed this off, sat down at the dining table with the frames from yesterday and got to work trying to fix them. They were nice looking frames, probably expensive and she could save some of them. Plus, anything to kill time till Morven arrived and took her off for her lunch. Serena had been doing this for about ten minutes when the discreet hum of the motorized wheelchair alerted her to Bernie's arrival.

Morven had told Serena that Bernie hardly slept. It was a punishment for her; hard to do, to lie trapped in a bed from which you couldn't get out of with only your darkest thoughts at the small hours. She could tell now, that last night had been a rougher one that most. Dark shadows circled the blonde's eyes in a way that made Serena's heart wince. She must be so tired, all the time. If they were friends then Serena would talk to her about it, see if they could do anything. But they were not friends. And she was just here to do a job.

Bernie sat there, in the doorway, staring at her, glumly. An awkward pause fell. Serena smiled; the words of Mr Dunn in her head... Bernie needed positiveness around her. Someone upbeat, to make her look on the good side of things. Or at the very least, make her smile. A feat and a half. 

"I thought I'd see if I could fix any of these frames." Serena held one up; the picture of Bernie in full battle fatigues, with Cameron and Charlotte as teenagers on either side. It was one of Serena's favourites of the blonde.

"Why?"

Serena blinked. What does she mean: why? To save the pictures, to make sure that she had something to look at other than the bloody rain. "I brought some wood glue with me, if you’re happy for me to have a go at them. Or if you want to replace the frames then I can pop into town during my lunch break and see if I can find some more. Or we could both go, if you fancied a trip out …" She trailed off. Bernie was fixing her with that look again- the pursed lips, the flashing eyes underneath a ridiculously long fringe. The look that plainly said Serena was an idiot.

"Who told you to start fixing them?" Bernie was unflinching. Serena's delicate hands paused, hovering over the frames.

"I just wanted to help." Serena said, her voice coming out a little sterner than she meant. Bernie didn't react.

"You wanted to fix what I did yesterday." She stated, bluntly. Serena started back;

"I –" 

Bernie moved a little closer. "Do you know what, Serena? It would be nice- just for once- if someone asked what I wanted. Beleive it or not, I meant to smash those photos. It wasn't an accident. It was because I couldn't stand the sight of them." 

Serena got to her feet. "I’m sorry. I didn’t think that –"

" _Stop, please!_ " Bernie let out, voice slicing through the rain. Serena stood stock still as it was with effort that Bernie yelled, chest rising and falling, hand gripping the joystick on her chair tightly with the effort. "You thought you knew best. Everyone thinks they know what I need. Let’s put the bloody photos back together. Give the poor invalid something to look at. I don’t want to have those bloody pictures staring at me every time I’m stuck in my bed until someone comes and bloody well gets me out again. Okay? Do you think you can get your head around that?"

Serena swallowed. "I wasn’t going to fix the ones with Alex, I'm not a complete imbecile. Just the ones of you and your children, and your friends ... in a while, you never know, you might feel–"

"Oh Christ …" Bernie turned away from her with a motarized whirr, her voice scathing. "Spare me the psychological therapy. Go clean something or read a book or whatever it is you do when you're not eating sandwiches on a bench." Serena's cheeks flamed. Embarssed that she'd been caught out in the garden on her lunch break, that Bernie had been watching her all this time. Probably judging her, from her shoes to her sandwich filling. Before she knew what she was doing, Serena's voice rang out.

"You don’t have to behave like an arse."

The words rang out in the still air.

The wheelchair stopped. There was a long pause, and then she reversed and turned slowly, so that Bernie was facing Serena, her hand on the little joystick.

"What?" She asked, stiffly. Serena's heart was thumping, but screw it, she'd gotten this far.

"So Alex got the shitty treatment. Fine. It's your love life. But your son dotes on you and all you do is shut him out, Morven for some bizarre reason actually likes your company, never mind your ex-husband who's house you squat in despite cheating on him. _It's a wheelchair, not a throne, Ms Wolfe!_ And I am just here day after day trying to do the best job I can. So I would really appreciate it if you didn’t make my life as unpleasant as you do everyone else’s. "

Bernie's jaw locked. There was a beat before she spoke again. "And what if I told you I didn’t want you here?"

"Then I'd said tough luck. I’m not employed by you. I’m employed by your son. And unless he tells me that he doesn’t want me here anymore I’m staying. Not because I particularly care about you, or like this job or want to change your life one way or another, but because I need the money. Am I clear?"

Bernie Wolfe's expression hadn’t outwardly changed much but Serena thought she saw astonishment in there, as if she were unused to anyone disagreeing with her. What Serena had done fully sunk in. She felt utterly and completely idiotic. But, somehow, she was also bloody proud of herself. Serena drew herself up, fixing her with a firm look.  
Bernie just stared at her. Thoughts racing through her head, looking at the brunette who had now seemed to have clamped her mouth shut, lips together and eyes slightly wide. Bernie narrowed her eyes. Serena took it as a signal to brace. But truly, Bernie was just trying to figure this woman out. The speech was impressive, Bernie gave Serena that. Bernie gave a deep breath.

"Fair enough," she said, and she turned the wheelchair around. "Just put the photographs in the bottom drawer, will you? All of them." Serena let out a breath.

And with a low hum, Bernie was gone. Serena didn't see the tiny smirk grace Bernie's face as she wheeled out. Bernie thought to herself: _Infuriating_.


	8. Chapter 8

The thing about a new job, and the company of new people- is that you tend to reevaluate. Serena thought she had done that when she was fired. That seemed logical; the shock of being fired, coming home when you had no work in the morning. Serena remembers the night- she'd been alone, with a bottle of Shiraz and job sites all looking for people younger than her, or with more experience than her, or too far away from her.

But now she was here and she was rethinking _everything_. And people had questions. Elinor wanted every single bit of gossip about that big house. Her dear mum had grown a few degrees more interesting, and as such, their phone calls had become less about asking for funds and exchanging pleasantries, and more the 'What's up with Bernie?' show. A paralyzed medic in a wheelchair was more worthy of Elinor's time than her mother's welfare. She would always pointedly say: _'Yes, Elinor, I'm fine, how're you?'_   before indulging her daughter. Serena wasn't a gossip, but truthfully talking it through was helpful in trying not to get too infuriated with the woman.

Jason was the same. Only the other night, Serena had been propped up on the sofa, reading a novel, whilst her nephew watched one of his shows, and he had turned around and asked her:

"Do you think Bernie watches _World's Strongest Man?_ " He queried, with a pout of his lips as he pondered. Jason was an utter sweetheart. Most thought him a little odd, due to the Aspergers but to Serena, he was harmless. A little bird to protect. His curly hair and glasses and his innocent outlook on the world were a gift to a pragmatist like Serena. As she worried about bills and keeping them afloat, Jason would fondly tell her how awful she was at Countdown. Somehow, that cheered her up.

"I don't know, Jason." Serena answered, honestly. That was bad, probably. Should she know? Jason frowned.

"But you spend all day with her." He reasoned.

"Yes." Serena drew the word out, as the ramifications of Jason's probing took hold of her mind.

"But you don't know what tv shows she watches?" Serena had paused then.

"No, Jason, I don't."

"Maybe you should ask her. That way you can be friends. My mum always said that to make friends, you ask them about their interests." And thus Serena was reduced to feeling contemplative. Jason was right, of course, but Bernie just rubbed Serena up the wrong way. Since Alex, the frost had thawed, but to Serena that just might mean climate change in their relationship, and in the end, she would be tossed out to sea, and drown.

And then there were the other inhabitants of the Dunn residents. Bernie was always unreadable. Every expression of hers could have 1000 translations. Except for derision. Serena always managed to spot that. Morven, whilst being aa sweet girl and very friendly, kept her distance. She had other jobs to do, the hospital to visit, and Serena was just another in a long line of carers. Also, Serena had gathered, the oldest. It doesn't surprise her, and she is actually fairly pleased at the blow to Bernie, who must've taken pleasure out of watching skinny, young girls obey her every whim. Now Bernie was stuck with her.

Cameron was another puzzle. He smiled at her, politely, when they passed in the hall, or were discussing Bernie's treatment. But any small talk was practically none existent. He seemed to have inherited his mother's penchant for keeping chatting _light_. But Mr Dunn (which it still seemed ridiculous to call him; he was young enough to be her son) - to Mr Dunn, Serena was never good enough. The problem with a medical man, and a non-medical carer was that she was always out of step with something. Such as the frames. Mr Dunn never raised his voice or told her off. He just asked her about what had happened, how long she had left Bernie alone and why had it happened. And then just nodded, and said he had to get back to work.

Serena was ready to tear her hair out.

But she sucked it up, because it really was a good paycheck, and she really did need the money. And she was as stubborn as hell. So, Serena got on with it, and did the job right, and did it well. Most of the time.

"Why the hell are you trying to sneak carrots onto my fork?"

"Nope." Serena popped the last syllable.

"You did. You mashed them up and tried to hide them in the gravy. I saw you."

Serena blushed. She had to admit, Bernie had caught her. Serena was sitting feeding Bernie, while both of them vaguely watched the lunchtime news. The meal was roast beef with mashed potato. Mr Dunn had told her to put three sorts of vegetables on the plate, even though Bernie had said quite clearly that she didn’t want vegetables that day. She was prone to, in Serena's opinion, idiotic bouts of rebellion. But, Serena was pretty sure there was a meal that she was instructed to prepare that wasn’t nutritionally balanced to within an inch of its life. Nothing like a fish and chips night. Almost made Serena feel sorry for Bernie.

"Why are you trying to sneak carrots into me?"

"I'm not."

"So there are no carrots on that?" Bernie challenged. Serena looked down to see the tiny pieces of orange, smothered in the rich gravy. She looked back up at Bernie, who was waiting, eyebrows raised.

"I just thought you might want a little boost." Serena tried, delivering the line with as much sarcasm as she could.

"Let me get this straight." Bernie deadpanned. "You think a teaspoon of carrots would improve my quality of life." Serena's lips pursed, the will to defend herself strong. But, frankly, she was half way through her day and after Bernie had her lunch, then Serena could eat hers. There was a Milkybar with her name on it. It wasn't worth it.

"I take your point," Serena said through gritted teeth, taking the plate away from Bernie's lap. "I won’t do it again."

And then, out of nowhere, Berenice Wolfe laughed. It exploded out of her in a bark, a loud hoot that was completely alien to Serena. She just stared as Bernie shook her head, her curls bouncing about her cheekbones and smiling: lighting up her whole expression. It was a bloody honk, that was what it was - deep and rich and unexpected.

"For Christ’s sake," she shook her head. She continued, still chipper. "What the hell else have you been sneaking into my food? You’ll be telling me to open the tunnel so that Mr Train can deliver some mushy Brussel sprouts to the red bloody station next."

"You act childish enough, let's put a cap on it, Bernie." Serena recovered, using her straight wit. Bernie kept chuckling, even with her next comment.

"Did my darling son put you up to this?"

"He's just looking out for you. Anyway, it was more a habit- I wasn't thinking." Serena explained, wanting to be little cause towards the frosty relationship between son and mother. Bernie sobered. She turned away from Serena.

"I don’t want anything else. Just do me a cup of coffee." She called out after me as Serena left the room, "And don’t try and sneak a bloody courgette into it."

*******

"She's in a good mood," Morven commented, walking in as Serena was at the sink, drying the dishes. The microwave beeped. Serena had started bringing in leftovers from home. It was bitterly cold outside, and the house had started to feel a bit warmer of late. That and there were only so many leftover portions of shepherd's pie you could freeze. And Jason only ate it once a week. She'd tried to push some onto Robbie, but he'd declined.

"Is she?" Serena asked, putting away a mug before getting her lunch from the microwave.

"She says you’re trying to poison her," Morven said, before blanching at how that might've sounded. "But she said it – you know – in a good way. In a great way, in fact. Not in a bad way at all." Serena gave her a curious look, before rooting around a drawer for some cutlery. She used that to hide the odd, pleased expression that had bloomed on her face.

"Yes, well ... give me time." She joked.

"She's talking a bit more too. More energy and liveliness. It's super good to see. We've had weeks where she would barely say a word, but she's come out of her shell a bit. She's a bit more chatty." Serena brushed it off. She thought back to last week, where Bernie told Serena to stop humming otherwise she'd run her over. Or when they'd fought over the fact that Serena had prepared her normal coffee, instead of Bernie's usual _'strong and hot'_ black coffee. Serena had brown sugar in hers. She'd hoped the blonde wouldn't notice. Alas, she was wrong.

"I think her definition of chatty and mine are a bit different."

"Well, we had a bit of a chat about confectionary actually. I told her about my love for Napoleon cakes, and she said she was always partial to good old fashioned Milkybars. And I simply have to tell you –" Morven dropped her voice, leaning in close to Serena, a smile on her face like she was about to give the most scandalous piecce of gossip. "Cameron asked me, a week or so back now, if I thought you were doing okay. I mean, of course, I said you were fantastic and really professional and all. But then yesterday, she came in and told me she heard you two laughing!"

"Well, you can hear that laugh from ruddy rooms away." Serena pointed out. "Anyway, Bernie was laughing at me."

"Ah, Cam doesn’t care about that. It’s just been a long time since she laughed at anything."

"You just make sure you’re the butt of more of her jokes, okay?" 

Serena put her fork into the leftover shepherd's pie and mashed up the potato. "Morven, I _really_ don't think that's going to be a problem."

*******

The other big change, apart from atmospheric conditions inside the house, was that Bernie didn’t ask Serena to leave her alone quite as often. Serena has stopped trying to psychoanalyze, brushed it off and put it down to her sparkling wit. Either that or Bernie had finally realised that Serena was here to stay. Anyway, a couple of afternoons, Bernie had even asked if she wanted to stay and watch a film with her. Serena hadn’t minded too much when it was _Calamity Jane_ , because that one was a bloody classic. Though she'd gotten a few looks when she began to sing. However, Bernie pointed to a French film with subtitles, Serena took a quick look at the cover and said she'd probably give it a miss.

Bernie, never being one to let things go, asked: "Why?"

Serena shrugged. "I don't like films with subtitles."

"That’s like saying you don’t like films with actors in them. Don’t be ridiculous. What is it you don’t like? The fact that you’re required to read something as well as watch something?"

"I can read perfectly fine. I know French. Or I did. So the fact I can no longer translate gives me a headache." Serena admitted, frowning. She'd tried watching a bloody Danish drama on the IPlayer, and got frustrated with that. It wasn't that she had ever known Dutch. But Serena was a 'people person'- not understanding bugged her. But, hell, she put up with Bernie.

"So you get a headache, because you don't _like_ to read the subtitles. Need glasses or something?"

"Funny."

"You have to watch this film, Serena. In fact, I order you to watch this film." Serena cocked an eyebrow. They both knew that Bernie had little power to order Serena about. The little show of authority had all bark but not bite. Bernie moved her chair back, and nodded towards an armchair. "You sit there. Don't move until it's over. And bloody hell, Serena if you feign a migraine I will scream."

It was an old film, about a hunchback who inherits a house in the French countryside, and Will said it was based on a famous book, but Serena couldn't say she'd heard of it. Her reading composed of train-journey novels. The last time she'd read classics were at boarding school. Didn't have the time for anything but quick reads. She spent the first twenty minutes feeling a bit fidgety, irritated by the subtitles and wondering if there was any way to get out of it. Every word she heard the characters speak made her want to translate, understand, and she couldn't. She got annoyed at herself; there had been a time where she had known French beyond a ruddy schoolteacher.

And then something happened. She stopped caring about translating, about her lost talent at French linguistics. She read the subtitles. She started to get lost in the story. Serena started to get anxious about the poor man and his family, who were being tricked by unscrupulous neighbours. By the time Hunchback Man died, Serena was sobbing silently, tears running into the cleft in her chin. As the credits rolled, Serena was in tatters.

"So," Bernie appeared at Serena's side. Serena looked away as Bernie glanced over at her, a sly smile curling her mouth. "You didn't enjoy that at all."

"You’re going to gloat now, aren’t you?" Serena muttered, reaching for the box of tissues.

"A bit." Bernie replied, cheekily.

"You're not going to let this go."

" _Not on your life._ I’m just amazed that you can have reached the ripe old age of – what was it?"

"Isn't it rude to ask a lady her age?"

"Come on." Bernie deadpanned. Serena blushed.

"Fifty-two."

"Bloody hell, we're the same age!"

"You sound surprised."

"Thought you were younger."

"Says the woman who has never had a grey hair in her life, I don't doubt!" Serena chuckled. Bernie laughed, before sobering, getting back to the point she'd been making.

"Fifty-two, and never have watched a film with subtitles."

Serena glanced down at the tissue and realized she had no mascara left. "I watched the Danish cop dramas," She grumbled. Bernie chuckled. If she could have held up her hands in mock surrender, she probably would've.

"Okay. Okay. So what do you do with yourself, Serena Campbell, if you don’t watch films?"

Serena shifted in the armchair. "You want to know what I do when I’m not here?"

"You were the one who wanted us to get to know each other. So come on, tell me about yourself."

"Why?" Serena asked. "Why do you want to know all of a sudden?"

"You can't be serious? It's not a secret, is it? Some government cover-up: your social life?" Bernie joked.

"I don’t know … " Serena said. "I have a glass of Shiraz at the pub. I watch a bit of telly. I go and watch my boyfriend when he does his running. Nothing unusual."

"No. I’m not really – built for it." She admitted. That made Bernie smile; lips curling upwards.

"And what else?"

"What do you mean, what else?" Serena asked, folding her arms and leaning against the wall.

"Hobbies? Travelling? Places you like to go? Things you'd like to do?" Bernie's smile was a tad indulgent, in a way that put Serena a tad on edge. She was pushing her, but both women pushed each other as they got to know each other better. It was an interesting dynamic.

"I read. Listen to music- though none of that rubbish you listen to. I look after my nephew, and then there's my daughter."

"And drink Shiraz?" she asked, dryly. Serena cocked a warning eyebrow.

"You asked. I watch box sets and I drink wine. I finished Orange in the New Black in 3 days for your information." She smirked, a little defensive. Bernie gave her a look; Oh really? "I don’t do much, okay? I work and then I go home."

"Holidays?"

"I’ve been to Spain, with Robbie. My boyfriend," Serena added. "I did plan a visit to a spa in Greece with Elinor, but she's a fickle thing. And by fickle I mean 'prefers to hang out with her gal pals than dear old mum'." Bernie let out a bark of a laugh, as though she understood exactly that. And she did; Cameron and Charlotte were always independent children. Serena bit her lip. "I also went to Paris, when I was a child. With my mum. Always meant to go back..."

"And what do you want?"

"What do I want what?"

"From your life?"

Serena blinked. "I'm 52 years old. It's a bit late for a life plan, isn't it?"

"Is it?" Bernie tilted her head. From her perspective, life should be seized. Of course, she had never been able to do that, never found the courage, but Serena could. She had it in her, still had a functioning body and a good bill of health. She had her family, and friends. But her life just seemed so quiet to Bernie. Serena was a smart, kind woman. The world should offer her so much. Bernie opened her mouth to elaborate. Closed it again. Since when did she have a high opinion of Serena Campbell.

There was a long pause. And so Bernie did what she did; turned around and wheeled away, leaving Serena speechless and thoughtful. Then she called out, a goodbye of sorts.

"Thank you!" Bernie turned back. Serena bit her lip. "For the film."

"You're very welcome."


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, sweeties. Thanks for being so patient! x

On Friday, they went to the local hospital. Serena hadn’t known about it before she arrived that morning, but was partially glad as the hulking great car that she had to drive was a lot bigger and a lot more daunting than her own claptrap of a car. But, she had always done better in exam conditions, so was fully able to bottle down her nerves and get on with it. She just needed to load Bernie and her chair into the adapted minivan and drive them both to and from the hospital the next town over. Great. What was daunting about that? Knowing Bernie, she’d probably be a bloody backseat driver.

In between grabbing her hospital appointment card and take a hurried sip of the last dregs of her lukewarm latte, Serena took a moment to text Raf. If she was lucky, she’d be able to get Bernie into her appointment and then promptly, and with a lot of dignity, flee to have a coffee with Raf. He was on shift at the moment at Holby General, and Serena wanted to catch him on his break. She was never one to turn down a pain au chocolat.

“Is your son coming with?” Serena asked Bernie, as she smiled down at the phone. Raf was going to make sure he was free. Thank God. Bernie was by the window, looking out at the gardens. Not even a trip outside could shake that habit from the disabled woman.

“No. He doesn’t come to my appointments.” Bernie said, flatly, looking over at her. Serena walked over, unable to hide her surprise. Cameron was devoted to his mother, and since he was paying for her and for Morven, Serena had been sure that he’d be a part of this was well. Bernie sighed, looking away from Serena. “He used to.” She continued. “Now we have an agreement.”

Serena left it at that, and changed subjects; “Is Morven coming?”

“Why?” Bernie raised her brow. Serena looked away, pocketing her mobile and grabbing her scarf from the kitchen, shouting over her shoulder, back to Bernie, as she retreated.

“No reason.” Truth be told, Serena didn’t want Bernie to know how nervous she was. She had spent the morning rereading the instruction manual for the car and the ramp. Serena liked to know what she was in for, and she was slightly apprehensive about being fully responsible for it all. Bernie stared at the back of Serena's head. Her eyes narrowed in an expression that was becoming a frequent use by Bernie. It was her, trying to work the other woman out.

"Come on, Campbell. What’s the problem?" Bernie moved the joystick on the wheelchair, spinning around, away from the garden, and following Serena out into the kitchen. Serena let out a puff of air, hating the fact that she would have to admit a flaw in herself in front of this woman. She turned back to look at Bernie.

"Okay. I just … I just thought it would be easier first time if there was someone else there who knew the ropes." She explained. Bernie pursed her lips, eyes disappearing behind her long, blonde fringe.

"As opposed to me," she said.

"That’s not what I meant." Serena stood her ground.

"Because I can’t possibly be expected to know anything about my own care?"

"Do you operate the chairlift?" Serena asked, in a level tone. She wasn't trying to insult the woman, but she was done trying to tiptoe. "You can tell me exactly what to do, can you?" Bernie was silent for a moment, contemplating. If she had been wanting a fight, Serena thought, she appeared to have changed her mind.

"Yes. She's coming. She's a useful pair of hands, for all her enthusiasm. And I thought you'd work yourself into less of a tizz if she was there." Serena frowned; bar the insult, that almost sounded caring.

"I won't get into a tizz," Serena stated, winding her scarf around her neck. "As you so eloquently put it." She tied the scarf into a knot and then another knot. Bernie noted it.

"You really are tense, aren’t you?" Serena bristled, feeling Bernie studying her. Those great, wide brown eyes of hers scrutinizing her, as if she were the first human being Berenice Wolfe had ever come into contact with. "Oh, lighten up, Serena."

Serena glared.

"Come on, what’s the worst that could happen – I end up in a wheelchair?" Bernie smiled, eyes glittering. It was stupid, a crass joke. But Serena let out a little giggle at that, a grin, and then dipped her gaze down to triple-check her handbag for some unknown reason. That must've been the closest Bernie had come to trying to make her feel better.  
Serena missed Bernie's smiled widening.

*******

The car looked like a normal people carrier from outside, but when the rear passenger door was unlocked a ramp descended from the side and lowered to the ground. With Morven looking on, Serena guided Bernie's chair squarely on to the ramp, checked the electrical lock-down brake, and programmed it to slowly lift her up into the car. Morven slid into the other passenger seat, belted Bernie up and secured the wheels.

Serena tucked a few errant strands of hair behind her ears, flattening them down in some sort of nervous activity as she prepped herself to drive the lummox. She closed the back, went to the driver's side, opened the door and sat down. She could most categorically state that this drive was not going to be without many, many swear words. A nerve wracking 45 minutes later, Serena all but slipped out of the driver's seat and out of the car. She flexed her hands; they ached, from gripping the steering wheel very, very tightly.

"Good job," Morven said, giving Serena a quick, one armed hug before busying herself with Bernie. Serena crooked an eyebrow. As lovely as that girl was, she wasn't a good liar. That display of happiness might have been due to her still being alive, rather than _congratulations_ at a smooth drive. Evidently, Bernie sensed this too, as when Serena met the woman's eyes, they were sparkling.

"Let's get... cracking," Bernie smirked as Morven helped her chair out onto the tarmac.

"Ha, bloody ha!" Serena deadpanned with a roll of her eyes. Bloody woman. Although, her annoyance (which at this point was growing near-constant), was a little hollow, once Serena realised how awful the pavements were: punctured with potholes and badly patched over cracks that made them uneven and quite frankly... crap. They had to walk slowly as Bernie navigated the way up to hospital entrance. Morven pretended not to notice, but Serena caught her watching. Serena kept tight-lipped. And Bernie was grim-faced against it all.

Once they finally managed to cross, and the hospital loomed before them, Serena did notice a change over Bernie. Mainly the fact that she had clammed up. The posture usually sagging in the wheelchair was drawn up, as straight as a soldier on parade. A woman going into battle, perhaps?

She'd been to Holby City Hospital before. They were going to Holby Care, a private ward up on the higher floors with a swanky reception that looked more like a hotel than a hospital ward. She'd never been in Holby Care before; the most time she'd spent at the hospital was down in the lower wards- Keller or the Stroke Unit, due to her mother's illness. Occasionally Serena took Jason in for an appointment, and her own, usual human check-ups, but she had never had any experience of what a large consultant pay-package could support.

Serena held back, feeling a little out of place as Bernie and Morven went through a long established, expected routine. Bernie gave her name to the Irish redhead at the desk, and then they were all taken down a long corridor. Morven was carrying a huge backpack, containing everything from beakers to spare clothes, which was basically everything that Bernie needed in case things went badly, or there was a complication, or any sort of eventuality. Serena herself clutched the white binder she had been given at the start of her job. She clutched it like a lifeline.

Serena didn’t follow her into the appointment. Instead, Morven and she made her home on the comfortable blue chairs outside of the consultant's room.

"What are they actually doing in there?" Serena asked, curious, after they had been sat outside for a good half hour. Morven looked up from her book (something to do with Napoleon- apparently, her husband was quite the history buff).

"Oh, it's just her six-month check-up."

"To see if she's improving?"

"Improving?"

"Getting better."

Morven put her book down. "Bernie... Bernie is not getting any better. It’s a spinal cord injury."

"I'm perfectly aware of that." Serena attested. "But she has exercises. You do physio together every day."

"That’s to try and keep her physical condition up – to stop her atrophying and her bones demineralizing, her legs pooling, that kind of thing. It's basically to stop her getting any worse." Morven spoke in a sympathetic tone, big eyes looking into Serena's. "Bernie is not going to walk again, Ms Campbell. All we’re doing is trying to keep her out of pain, and keep up whatever range of movement she has."

Serena paused at that, mulling it over. Never walk again. Ever. Not even with all of those procedures and medication and exercises. Bernie Wolfe seemed so... stubborn. It was hard to imagine anything standing in her way. Battle-hardened trauma surgeon like her? Must be hell. Serena hadn't really realised the true implications. Hadn't sat down as she was now, and mused upon it, mused upon the enigma that was Berenice Griselda Wolfe and how this disability had quelled such a force of nature.

"And, she does all this stuff for you? The physio? She never seems to want to do anything that I suggest." Serena pointed out, and Morven gave a sweet smile, wrinkling her nose.

"She does. But she doesn't like it." Morven said, "When I first came, she was as strong as anything. Seemed determined to beat it. Threw herself into practicing all of the time. Bernie had come pretty far in rehab, and she doesn't give up easily. But after a year with no improvement, she found it pretty rough trying to reconcile with the fact that it wasn't getting any better."

"Do you think she should keep trying?"

Morven stared at the floor. "Honestly? She’s a C5/6 quadriplegic. That means nothing works below about here …" Morven placed a hand against the upper part of her chest. "For a surgeon? Never mind an army medic- well, they haven't worked how to fix the spinal cord just yet."

Serena stared at the door, her hand around the charm on her necklace, thumbing the chain, and thinking about Bernie's face as they had braced themselves at the reception. And that face in contrast of the beaming woman in uniform with her two children. "But, someone must be working on something? A big place like this, all the space for medical advancement and research..."

"Yeah, Holby Care is pretty good." Morven nodded. Serena knew that tone: the tone that plainly said not to get your hopes up.

"Where there is life..." Serena tried with a vain smile. Morven gave another one of her sweet smiles, nodded, and then got back to her book. Serena looked down at the white binder in her lap, took it off and placed it on the chair next to her. Her phone buzzed. "Oh, sorry."

Serena picked it up and swiped at the screen. Her face burst into a smile. Raf was free. She asked Morven if she didn't mind her nipping off. The young woman just shook her head, said it was fine- the appointments could go on for some time. Serena smiled, gratefully, and all but ran down the corridor, eager to see a friendly face that wasn't paid to spend time in her company. Or she wasn't paid to spend time in their company.

There was a little cafe on the ground floor, near the entrance. Pulse's. It was all dark wood and imitation-Costa. Served toasties and pastries. Serena got herself a double-shot latte and a pain au chocolate. Medicinal, of course. Soon enough, the lift dinged as Serena was adding her sugars and out popped Raf Di Lucca.

"Fancy seeing you here, Ms Campbell."

"Serena, Raf." She admonished with a good natured smile. Raf had been the same when they'd worked together back at the GP's office, even though she was just a receptionist and he the big shot doctor. They'd grown to be firm friends, and Serena gave him a great big hug and a squeeze. "Oh, it is so good to see you!"

"Cappuccino, please." Raf ordered, before they grabbed a table. "So, what brings you here?"

"Bernie is having a check up."

"Ah, yes, so how goes the job?"

"Well, I've not murdered her yet." Serena joked, stirring the sugars in her latte. "It's just- she's so frustrating, Raf. And stubborn and she makes me feel so inadequate. I'm well aware I am not prepped for dealing with quadriplegia but its like she doesn't understand how I even lived this long!"

"How long have you been there now?" Raf asked, taking a gulp of his coffee. Serena cringed.

"A month." Serena admitted.

"A month?" Raf gaped, eyes wide. Serena waved him off, knowing how it sounded. A month. 4 weeks and she couldn't stomach up sticking this job out yet. But Bernie just made her question... everything. Back at the GP's office, it was her own little dominion. She knew the job, was good at the job and was confident in it. Now, where was she? Looking after a frustrating woman who looked at her like she had no clue how to act in the outside world.

"I don't like feeling on the back foot." Serena defended. 

"So, change the game! Grit your teeth and show her the same Serena that dealt with Guy Self and his sniveling audits. Or when you got an official complaint against you by Vincent Van Vicar because you wouldn't go out with him! Show her that Serena." Raf encouraged, and Serena blushed, remembering the Vincent Van Vicar episode. He turned up at the reception of the surgery with a portrait of Serena on canvas. Whilst it had been flattering in a round about way, Henrik Hanssen walking in to call on Mrs Jenkins, right as the Vicar showed off his nude portrait of Serena and all her worldly goods.

Serena sighed. She could go all 'That Serena', but what's to say she'd keep her job. And she really needed this job. The hours were good. As mind-numbing as it was, it meant she got home on a reasonable time, and a predictable time- which was brilliant for Jason and his needs.

"I just... I really need this job."

"From what I've heard, it sounds like she really needs you."

"Hm." Serena gave him a disgruntled look. It was true though, Cameron Dunn had hired her for a reason. "I suppose it's not all bad. Sometimes she does act human."

"There you go then! Could be worse, you could have to wipe her backside!"

"Why does everyone go on about wiping backsides?" Serena gawped, laughing.

*******

"So we’ll see you in three months’ time, Ms Wolfe," a voice was saying. "I’ve adjusted those anti-spasm meds and I’ll make sure someone calls you with the results of the tests. Probably Monday."

Bernie's voice rang out. "Can I get these from the pharmacy downstairs?"

"Yes. Here. They should be able to give you some more of those too."

Serena looked to the chairs. No Morven, no bag, and no binder. Right, they must be about to leave. If somewhat hesitantly, Serena knocked. Someone called for her to come in and she entered. All eyes went to her. Serena's face burned.

"I’m sorry," said the consultant, rising from his chair. "I thought you were the physio."

"Right, sorry, no." Serena apologised. "I'm Bernie's... helper." Eyes went to Bernie, who was braced forwards as Morven helped her pull down her blouse. Bernie's eyes were closed. "Sorry, I thought you were done."

"Get out, Serena." Bernie's voice rang out. "Please." Serena's eyes went to her closed ones and she nodded, backed out, muttering apologies, her hand on her necklace once more, she turned and ran, collapsing into one of the comfy chairs.

It wasn't the sight of Bernie's uncovered body that had made her reel. It was slim, sinewy where once had been toned muscles. A sports bra for comfort that didn't cover all of the pale, white line that slashed itself down the centre of her body like a fold on a piece of paper. She'd expected that; wasn't so dim to imagine that major surgery wouldn't leave scars- and there were plenty; small, white marks across her chest. Army life obviously came with risks.

But what did make her reel, was that, underneath all of the baggy jumpers and black, shapeless blouses... Serena hadn't realised just how thin Bernie Wolfe was.

*******

Bernie kept her eyes closed for a good few minutes. The dulcet tones of the consultant washed over her, and Morven's hands just flitted about, making sure her shirt was in place and her dignity intact. As if she had much left.

She didn't bother listening to the doctor; Morven would retain it, and relay it to Cam. There wasn't much point, she had heard it through all the check-ups, bouts of pneumonia, fevers, or whatever her blasted body wanted to put her through. Bernie wasn't getting better. At the moment it was simply a battle to keep herself... stable. Stuck. In limbo. Whatever bloody cliche you wanted to use.

And of course, of course, Serena would come in. That was the icing on the cake. Bernie let a steady breath out through her lips, feeling her lungs expand and then relax. Then she opened her eyes. They were done for the day. Forever. Morven grabbed the prescription slip and the guidelines for some new exercises. They all muttered thanks to each other in social convention and then Bernie was able to be wheeled out. She instantly spied Serena on one of the waiting chairs. Serena had jumped up as soon as the door opened, looking at once both bashful and frightened. Bernie gave a small, easy-going smile, hoping it would ease her. That, and Bernie was happy that the expression wasn't one of pity.

"Time to go?" Serena asked, wondering whether this was just a pause for another scan, or they needed to go somewhere else in the vast complex of the hospital.

"I just need to get Bernie's prescription." Morven says, unaware of the tension between the two women. The young woman looked back at Bernie, put a had on her shoulder. "Are you okay for a second?"

"I think I'll survive." Bernie replied, softly, nodding. Morven was satisfied and went to go and get the prescription. Bernie moved the chair over to Serena, who sat back down on the waiting chairs. "How- How's Jason?" Serena looked at her in surprise.

"Jason? Yes! Well, he's fine!" Serena smiled, latching on to the subject. "Challenging, yes, but I suppose that's family. He's visiting tonight; wants to introduce me to this girl he's keen on. I've told him time and again that it's not convenient; I've got the boiler man coming round later this evening, as well as Robbie- "

"Robbie is your boyfriend?"

"Yes." Serena blushed. Bernie moved on.

"Why can't she come tomorrow night- the girl?"

"Ah, because tonight, according to Jason, is fish and chips night, and this girl really likes fish. Any change in schedule would be abhorrent." Serena sighed, but the good-natured smile never left her features. She always seemed to light up when talking about her nephew or daughter, thought Bernie. "I suppose I should be grateful his carer is running him over to the house rather than me having to go and pick him up."

"I'm sure it will all be fine." Bernie told her, confidently. Serena met her gaze, and a comfortable paused over them. They kept eye contact, before Serena remembered an earlier conversation with Jason, and broke the spell, the question rushing out of her lips:

"Do you watch the World's Strongest Man, at all?"

"Wh-" Bernie started.

"Got it! Right ladies, back into the van we go. See if Serena can keep the swear words down to single digits." Morven grinned, interrupting, and ribbing Serena, who smiled at the joke. Bernie's eyes sparkled with mirth, snorting at the joke. Serena glared.

" _Sorry_... sorry." She let out, and wheeled past Serena, leaving the woman to roll her eyes and trail along behind.


	10. Chapter 10

The snow had come overnight. A week after the hospital visit, Serena had woken up to the sleepy village of Holby being covered in snow, making everything look twee and as if it had been doused in icing sugar. A particularly vicious and cold icing sugar.

It took Serena a whole twenty minutes to fully de-ice her car into a working machine. She was able to get to work, though her heaters in her car were clanky, and everything was now at snail's pace due to the weather. Pedestrians slipped and slid on icy pavements, and traffic was careful and slow. She drove to the Dunn House, almost in slow motion, her windshield wipers working furiously against the snow fall. 

Serena trudged up the drive, her toes numb and ankles wet from where the snow was able to sneak past her work trousers. It was freezing, and she must look a fright. She was kitted out in her normal clothes but with a big thick green jumper, her dark ombre coat and her trusted hat that was big, grey and fluffy. Her small frame all but lost, bar a red nose peeking out from white skin. 

The house was even more intimidating as it reared out from the thick snow fog that had obscured it till she was almost on the front steps of Bernie's little extension. She rapped on the door, urgently, needing to get out of the cold. 

To her surprise, it was not Morven who opened the door, but Cameron.   
"Mum’s in bed," he said, ushering her inside. "She’s not too good. I was just wondering whether to call the doctor."

"Where's Morven?" Serena asked, shaking off the snow from her handbag, and following Mr Dunn into the hallway.

"Morning off." Cameron sighed, scratching the back of his head. "Of course, it would be today. Bloody agency nurse came and went in six seconds flat. If this snow keeps on I’m not sure what we’ll do later."

He shrugged, as if these things couldn’t be helped. Serena gave him an apologetic smile, in the standard British way, even though there was nothing she could do to help either. Mr Dunn showed her through and then was quick to retreat. "You know where everything is."

Serena took off her coat, and her hat, shaking it over the sink to remove the larger portions of snow that had settled on the fur. The bottoms of her trousers legs were very much soaked, and the top of her socks. She took her socks off and put them on the radiator to dry. She'd do the same with her hat, but had the odd feeling that it would become a fireball if given half the chance, so hung it up with her coat. Serena padded across the laminate wood.

A pair of Bernie's were in the clean-washing basket, so she put them on. They were large, and fluffy, meant for lounging in rather than anything else, and whilst they looked comical with her work trousers tucked in, Serena thought they were heaven.

Bernie didn’t respond when Serena called out, so after a while, she made her a drink (one of those strawberry concoctions), knocked quietly and poked her head round the door. In the dim light, Serena could just make out the shape under the duvet. She was fast asleep, a mop of blonde hair splayed out onto the pillows, her body motionless, face oddly at peace. Serena gave a soft smile to herself and ducked out.

The morning passed in invariable silence; the world still outside, and Serena found the hours going by in an unhurried fashion, but didn't mind as she was able to focus on her list of chores up and down the annex. She found satisfaction of getting everything clean and tidy. She took the radio with her; room to room, but made sure to periodically check in with Bernie. Serena poked her head around the door just to check she wasn't in pain, and that she was still breathing evenly. Eventually, though, the list was exhausted and Serena glanced up at the clock. One o'clock. A niggling feeling entered her brain, anxious over the fact that the blonde still hadn't woken up, and Serena had been here for 5 hours or so...

So, she made Bernie a fresh drink, and then knocked on Bernie's bedroom door, loudly, hoping to rouse her. 

"Yes?" Bernie's voice was hoarse and husky, as if just roused.

"It's me," Serena called out. "Serena. Am I okay to come in?"

"I'm hardly doing the Dance of the Seven Veils."

Serena rolled her eyes gayly, and opened the door, hesitant still. The room was in darkness, and in limbo. The drawn curtains created a stuffy atmosphere. Serena squinted, letting her eyes adjust to the light. She could see Bernie, wrapped in her covers, on one side. Sometimes it was easy to forget that she wasn't able to move; to pull herself into a comfortable position or turn over in her sleep.

"What can I do? Do you want your drink?" Serena asked, holding up the strawberry concoction. Bernie licked her dry lips. Bernie's hair was even messier than normal. 

"I need to change position." 

Serena put the drink down on a chest of drawers and walked over to the bed. "Okay, what do you need me to do?"

Bernie swallowed carefully, as if it were painful. A reaction to the action of swallowing, or the current situation, neither woman could be sure. She motioned with her chin for Serena to come closer, measured as a small nod. 

"Lift and turn me, then raise the back of the bed." Serena cautiously approached. "Put your arms under mine, link your hands behind my back and then pull back. Keep your... er- you need to sit on the bed and that way you shouldn’t strain your lower back." Bernie was blushing.   
Serena pressed her lips together. She reached around Bernie, following the instructions to the letter. The scent of her filled Serena's nostrils; floral shampoo, plain creams, and the natural human miasma. Bernie's skin was warm against Serena's. 

They were very close, Serena all but hugging the other woman. As if they were old friends, or gal pals embracing each other warmly. Serena took a breath, linked her hands and adjusted herself so that she held the other woman as securely as she could. Serena was by no means a strong woman. She had no extraordinary degree of physical strength, but rather the amount expected of a normal middle aged woman. But Bernie was luckily slim and Serena found it easy to feel at least fairly confident. 

Bernie let out a grunt as Serena hoisted her up, and Serena nearly dropped her, thinking the other woman was in pain.

"I'm fine," Bernie muttered into Serena's shoulder, gritting her teeth.   
"Right." Serena nodded, and pulled again, adjusting the body of the woman till she was comfortable. The limp marionette of Bernie Wolfe crashed against the pillows, and gave a heaving sigh as she settled into the bed once more. Tension filled the air, till Serena looked down, playing with her sleeves and quipped; "God, for a slim lady, you are a lump." 

"And your hands are bloody ice-cubes." Bernie batted back, just as easily. There was a pause, and then...

Bernie burst into laughter; a large, husky bark that tickled Serena so that she too, split into peals of laughter. They were both near tears when Bernie suddenly tensed. Her laughter quickly turned into horrific coughs.

Serena jumped up from the bed, getting her a glass of water and raising it to her lips, cupping the back of Bernie's head to help her as the coughs subsided. Bernie nodded, and Serena pulled back, placing the glass on the bedside table. Bernie's skin was hot- an intense heat radiating from a pale canvas. Serena placed her head as gently as she could, back onto the pillow, adjusting it slightly to make Bernie comfy. 

Tenderly, she moved the pillow, so that Bernie was still raised, rather than flat on her back. Her blonde hair fanned out behind her, and Serena moved a hair from her face. Smiling, happy now that Bernie was no longer coughing. 

Bernie pointed out the remote control device that would bring her head and shoulders up. "Not too much, though," she murmured. "A bit dizzy."

Serena turned on the bedside light, ignoring her vague protest so that she could see her face. "Bernie- are you okay?" 

"Not my best day."

"Do you need painkillers?"

"Yes … strong ones."

"Maybe some paracetamol?" Bernie lay back against the cool pillow with a sigh. Serena gave her the beaker, watched him swallow.

"Thank you...Serena." She said, afterward. She closed her eyes. It was always odd, Serena thought... when Bernie called her by her first name. She had become used to 'Campbell'- though the name of her ex-husband bore no delighted fruit, she had taken it and fashioned it as her own. But 'Serena' was softer, and so seemed Bernie Wolfe when she used it.

For a while, Serena just stood in the doorway and watched the blonde as she drifted off to sleep. Her chest rose and fell in the thin pyjama top, curls all about, though it didn't seem to disturb her as she nodded. Her breathing was shallow, perhaps a little laboured. Under the covers, away from her chair, Bernie Wolfe looked as if she was healed. As if when she came from her daze, she would stand and walk like anyone else. 

"Go," Bernie muttered.

Serena left.

*******

There was not much she could do as the afternoon descended. Serena watched the snow piling up, the flakes still falling heavily, glazing up the windows. The gardens outside were now fairytale white, and the sky was grey. Serena curled up in the TV room, with her magazine and a cup of coffee.

She listened to the local news on the radio, the motorway snarl-ups, train stoppages and temporary school closures that the unexpected blizzard had brought with it. Serena went back into Bernie's room and looked at her again. She'd left the light on, though dimmed it with a controller, so that she was able to check in without disturbing her. Serena didn't like what she saw: Bernie was pale, very pale, but with high points of temperature bright on each cheek, like a nasty blush. 

"Bernie?" Serena said softly. She didn’t stir. "Bernie?" Serena said her name twice more, loudly. There wasn't even a stir from the blonde.   
Serena straightened up, wondering what to do, hand going to her pendant. She paced for a few seconds before pressing her lips together in determination. Serena stepped closer, and then leaned over Bernie. 

There was no obvious movement in her face, nothing in her chest even. Serena felt sick with anxiety. Breathing. There should be evidence of breath; she would be able to feel her breathing. Serena put her face down close to Bernie's, trying to detect an out breath. When she couldn't, Serena reached out a hand and cupped her cheek, stroking it slightly. 

Bernie flinched, eyes snapping open, inches from Serena, who jumped back, startled. Serena apologised at a blinking Bernie. Bernie looked bewildered, a little disorientated as her gaze swept the room before landing on Serena's face. Bernie relaxed a little, sinking back into the pillows.

"Do you want some soup?" Serena asked.

"No. Thank you." Bernie closed her eyes.

"More painkillers?" Serena tried. Bernie really didn't look good. The room was humid and she couldn't help but worry. "Is there something I should be doing? I mean, if Morven can’t get here?" Bernie opened her eyes, gave her a long, steady look. 

"No … I’m fine," She murmured, before closing her eyes again.

Serena went through the folder, trying to work out if she was missing something. She opened the medicine cabinet, the boxes of rubber gloves and gauze dressings, and realized she really didn't have any clue on what she should do. Serena rang through to the main house, trying to get a hold of Mr Dunn, but there was no answer. Panic began to settle in, and she took the folder into Bernie's room, sat on the chair in the corner, and kept an eye on her whilst scanning all the information. 

She was close to ringing Raf, or someone else she had worked with- someone who had an ounce of medical training, even if they didn't deal with someone like Bernie.

Then, the back door opened, and Morven stepped in, wrapped in layers of bulky clothing, a woolen scarf and a set of earmuffs on top of her bouncy hair. All accompanied by a flurry of snow and a chilly wind. Serena didn't care, she all but ran from Bernie's room as soon as she heard the back door open.

"Hi!" Morven greeted, cheerily, shaking the show from her body and slamming the door behind her. 

"Thank Goodness you're here," Serena said. "She's ill. Asleep for most of the morning, and hardly drunk a thing. I didn't know what to do- I gave her some pain relief but something is wrong." 

"I'll go check on her," Morven said, striding straight over to Bernie's room, pushing up her sleeves before she disappeared. Serena set about making some tea. But Morven was back before the kettle had even finished boiling. "She's boiling. How long has she been like that?"

"All morning. I did think she was hot, but she said she just wanted to sleep."

"All morning?" Morven looked aghast. Serena blanched.

"I gave her some paracetamol." She vouched, glad she had done that at least.

"As much use as a mint imperial."

"I didn’t know. Nobody said. Bernie just made me leave her to it- I've just been wrapping her up." Serena was getting the feeling that she had made a horrible, horrible mistake. Morven put a hand to her forehead, the other on her hip as she weighed her options. She was just as annoyed, if not more so, at Bernie. The young woman knew what to do in these situations, and Bernie knew, but Serena didn't. She wasn't a trained medical professional, and she'd only been here for over a month and a half. Bernie should have said something, but in Morven's opinion- she had a hero complex. Didn't like seeming weak, which was a bloody useless trait in a quadriplegic. 

Morven got going, pushing past Serena and getting to the medicine cabinet, grabbing tablets, and then a pestle and mortar. She showed both to Serena. "Antibiotics. The strong ones." 

"Right-" Serena began, as Morven started to grind them up, furiously. A lot of rage for one so small and sweet. 

"It’s in the folder. Look, Bernie doesn’t sweat like we do. In fact, she doesn’t sweat at all from the point of her injury downwards. It means if she gets a slight chill then her temperature goes completely bonkers." Morven explained. "Go find the fan. We'll move it into her room till she cools down. And a damp towel, to put at the back of her neck. We need to get her temperature under control- there's no way a doctor will be able to get here till the snow stops. I'm going to report that agency nurse. They should have picked this up in the morning."

It took almost forty minutes for Bernie's temperature to return to an acceptable level. While they waited for the extra-strong fever medication to take effect, Serena placed a towel over her forehead and another around her neck, overseen by Morven. Then they had to strip her down. Serena held her back up whilst Morven pulled the pyjama top off, and then the dark grey sports bra she slept in over her head. Serena averted her eyes, blushing. Bernie was covered in a fine cotton sheet, and they increased the fan's power.

Bernie refused to meet Serena's eye in all of this, and endured it all with stony silence and disconnect from the situation. She answered Morven's questions, obviously used to being in the situation with her, but Serena was ignored. She tried not to take it too personally, and could only apologise, which she did. Brown eyes creased in concern at the sight of Bernie. She felt awful, she should have noticed the discomfort Bernie was in. Looking at her now; pale and clammy, there was no disguising she was ill. 

Morven grabbed Serena's attention, as she was putting on latex gloves. "Right, you need to watch what I'm doing. It’s possible you may need to do this alone later." Serena nodded, feeling unable to say no. Luckily, she had a strong stomach and chose to feel intrigued rather than squeamish as Morven peeled down the waist of Bernie's pyjama bottoms, revealing a pale strip of her bare stomach, and carefully removed the gauze dressing around the little tube in her abdomen, cleaning it gently and replacing the dressing.

Then, Morven showed her how to change the bag on the bed, explained why it must always be lower than Bernie's body. Serena put on her own pair of gloves, and disposed of the pouch full of warm fluid without much hesitation. 

But she was glad that Bernie wasn't really watching her. She didn't want to embarrass her too. 

*******

Finally, an hour later, Bernie lay dozing, lying on fresh cotton sheets and looking, if not exactly well, then not scarily ill. Serena watched over her, loathe to leave her. Morven re-entered, pulling on her coat as she did so.

"Let her sleep. Just make sure to wake her after a couple of hours to make sure you get fluids into her. More than half a beaker at least. More fever medications at five o'clock and just remember that her temperature might shoot up again as they wear off but you can't give her anything before five." Serena mentally jotted it all down in her mind. She could do this- she was just worried about getting it wrong or missing something. 

"Now you’re going to need to repeat what we just did, this evening. You’re okay with that?" Morven perched her earmuffs on the top of her head. "Just read the folder. And don’t panic, Serena. Any problems, you just call me. I’ll talk you through it all. I’ll get back here again if I really have to."

*******

Serena stayed in Bernie's room after Morven left, sitting in an armchair in the corner. She loathed the idea of leaving the woman alone. At five, Serena's mobile phone signalled a text message. Bernie stirred, and Serena all but leapt out of her chair, grabbing it from the bedside table where she'd left it with the glass of water, anxious to get it before it disturbed her.

_No trains back. Can you stay over? Morven can't do it. Cam._

An eyebrow crooked upwards at the use of his first name, but Serena didn't over think it. Mr Dunn was still up in London with his father then. Serena didn't have to think twice before she typed back. _  
_

_No problem._

She rang Robbie next. He would be expecting her home. He answered after a few rings, as Serena tapped her foot. 

"Robbie? It's Serena." She spoke into the speaker. She looked over to Bernie, who was still sleeping soundly, and moved out of the room, into the kitchen.

"Hey! I was about to call you!" 

"Really?" She was surprised, truly. He had probably been worried, poor thing. Serena should have called earlier when she saw that the snow was getting really, really bad. She felt a bit guilty about that, being so wrapped up in Bernie and her condition that she'd forgotten to check in at home. Luckily, she wasn't due for her Skype call with Jason until half past eight. There was an alert on her phone, and she should be able to do it via her phone, or use Bernie's tablet if she was awake to ask her.

"O'course." Serena smiled into the receiver. He could be sweet. Robbie continued: "I've been thinking; how about I get a key for your place. I spend more time there than at my place and it's closer to the police station." 

"How very... practical," Serena said, not quite sure what to make of it. They hadn't discussed moving in together. She tried to move the conversation on, not wanting to linger on such a subject on the phone. "Robbie, I've got to stay."

"What?"

"It's Bernie. She's ill."

"What's wrong with her?"

"Fever and a bit of a chill. She's not able to control her temperature and it's putting her in a bit of pain. She's sleeping at the moment, but..." Serena trailed off, the meaning clear: _but I can't leave her._  

"Surely she used to it by now? And she's got nurses and whatnot." 

"She's got Morven, and Morven is at home. I'm the only one here."

"The son? The bloke that employed you- Mr Dunn?"

"Isn't answering. Listen, I'm sorry, Robbie but I can't just up and leave." Serena pointed out, a bit fed up with his lack of support.

"Are you getting paid at least?"

"Yes, not that that would change my mind. She's not well at all. Besides, there's the snow as well. How do you think I would get home? Husky?"

"Alright. Alright. I'll be at my place tomorrow, what with Jason coming around." Robbie sighed on the other side of the phone. Serena bit her lip. She wished he made more of an effort with Jason. "So I'll see you in a couple of days."

"Okay. Love you." Serena accepted.

"You too." He replied. She hung up.

Bernie slept. Serena cooked herself some food, and defrosted some soup in case Bernie wanted some later. She got the log fire going in case Bernie felt well enough to go into the living room. It was odd. To have very little in the way of things to do, or noise in the place. The GP reception had always been noisy with phones ringing and patients grumbling and chatting to each other. Even at home, she was always with the radio on, or Jason had come round, or Robbie was staying the night. Before that, she was raising a teenager single-handed. She had cared for her mum, and as the illness had taken hold, a quiet house was a luxury due to violent outbursts and yelling. And even then, before all of that, there was her marriage. Edward had been drunk, they had fought and then he had snored. 

She was a busy, caring woman, and so time off was very little and far between. Serena grabbed a novel from the shelf above the DVDS, perusing it. She'd read it before, but years ago, back when she was Head Girl and St Winifred's. Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte. It was an excellent read. Had been then and still was now. Serena made herself comfortable and lost herself in the words; the story of Jane and her struggles, and her love for Rochester, and fleeing and then coming back to care for him. A happy ending. 

Morven rang at seven. She seemed relieved that Serena was staying over, glad that Bernie would have someone keeping an eye on her in a professional capacity. Or at least, an obligated one, rather than the tenuous relationship that Mr Dunn held with his Mum. Serena herself was glad as well, didn't think that she would be able to stand it if she went home and didn't know how Bernie would fare. She was worried about her. 

"I couldn’t raise Mr Dunn. I even rang the landline number, but it went straight through to answerphone." Serena said into the phone. Morven didn't immediately reply. 

"Yeah. Well. He’ll be gone."

"Gone?"

"Look, Serena, he sometimes goes to London... to meet up with his sister. Bernie doesn't know." Serena moved unconsciously away from Bernie's room, as if she would hear it all. Her eyes were wide as she cradled the phone.

"Bernie doesn't know that Cameron meets up with his sister?"

"Probably something to do with sensitivity. She and Charlotte haven't got on since the divorce." Morven replied. "But, you're okay to stay?"

"Of course."

"She'll appreciate it." Morven said, and Serena was surprised. Didn't know what to say.  
"Oh."

"It’s just good that you’re there, that’s all. If you’re sure Bernie's looking better, I’ll be back first thing in the morning."

"Right. Okay. Bye then." Serena said, and hung up. A few hours passed, Serena watched some television, ate, and cleared up the kitchen, drifting around the annex in silence. Finally, Serena let myself back into Bernie's room.

Serena was careful to be quiet, aware that Bernie might be asleep. But Bernie stirred as she closed the door, and half lifted her head to look at Serena. "What time is it, Campbell?" Bernie asked, trying and failing to sound all-together and well. Instead, the jovial tone was lost for tired and muffled. 

"Quarter past eight."Serena replied, pottering and grabbing the books she had read and placing them back on the shelf. Bernie let her head drop, digested Serena's words. 

"Can I have a drink?" Serena nodded. There was no sarcasm, witty repartee or defences on Bernie now. Illness had made the walls drop, or so it seemed, and Serena found the other woman to be softer. Vulnerable. Serena went and got the drink, and turned on the bedside light. She perched on the side of the bed reaching out a hand. Serena smoothed out her hair, moved her fringe from the forehead and then felt it, to check the temperature. A little warm, but a lot better. 

"Cool hands." Bernie sighed, closing her eyes.

"You complained about them earlier." Serena smiled. Bernie opened her eyes again, expression one of genuine surprise. 

"Did I?"

"Would you like some soup?"

"No."

"Are you comfortable?" Serena never knew how much discomfort Bernie was in- not that she would ever tell her. But Serena suspected it was more than she ever would tell anyone.

"Um..." There was a pause. A loss of eye contact. "The other side would be good. But you don't need to- just roll me. I don't need to sit up." Eye contact was back. Serena gave a small double-nod, and climbed across the bed, and moved her over. She was as gentle as she could be, rolling her so that Bernie was facing her. She was no longer burning up, but was pleasantly warm as a result of being utterly cocooned in her blanket. 

"Can I do anything else?"

"Shouldn’t you be heading home?" Bernie asked, as if it had only just occurred to her. Serena gave her a soft smile, and moved a lock of hair that had fallen into Bernie's eyes. That fringe was getting ridiculous. 

She pulled back. 

"It’s okay," Serena said, softly, as Bernie closed her eyes again. "I’m staying over."


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with me. I have started university, hence the lack of updates. It's been really tough, and still is. But I hope I do this chapter justice for you guys, and you aren't disappointed xxx

Outside, the last of the light had long been extinguished. Snow still fell in cotton bud tufts, settling onto the blanket already made. The snowflakes were lit by the outside lights, orange and amber, calming and hypnotic. Bernie lay beneath her blanket. Serena sat on the edge of the bed, both watching the window together in peaceful silence.

Finally, Serena spoke: "Can I ask you something?"

"I suspect you’re going to."

"What happened?" Serena kept wondering; bar the introductory remarks of Mr Dunn during her interview ( _ "IED in Afghanistan." _ ), Serena had very little of an idea on how Bernie had become as she was. Bernie opened one eye, studying Serena, as if judging whether she should open up: tell all. Serena was looking at her with innocent expectation. But Bernie settled, and smiled, and decided to tell.

"How did I get like this?" She prompted Serena, who nodded. Bernie closed her eyes again. "Roadside IED. Afghanistan. About two years ago now. I am- was a trauma medic. One of the best. But our vehicle got blown up and I was shipped off back to England, stable. But paralyzed." She let out a huff. "Lucky me."

"It was that recent?" Serena gasped, and Bernie opened her eyes, looking at her quizzically. Neither spoke for a minute. 

Bernie hadn't been expecting that reaction- usually, it was a comment on her bravery or some other naive praise that she didn't deserve.

"My fourth tour," Bernie told her, proudly. Serena smiled at that.

"Can take the girl out of the military..."

"Can't take the military out of the girl." Bernie finished, closing her eyes, turning resigned again. Serena knew it was a sore spot. She tried to imagine this woman; stubborn and bold and with a stupid laugh, out in the middle of a desert, treating people, saving lives. Serena thought that Bernie would have been quite something to behold. It pained a little to think that the woman in the bed was then thrown out of that life, (one she had loved), into this new state. The hands that looked so capable on top of the bedspread, now useless. Bernie read her mind, muttered, "Can't even lift a scalpel now."

Serena looked away, towards the bookshelf. Among the novels were medical journals and books with unpronounceable subjects. A great stack of BMJs on the floor next to it, neatly tucked away to avoid blocking wheelchair access. 

"You couldn't teach? Done something else?" Serena offered. 

"It was my life. Afghanistan. And then I came home." She tutted, a small click of her tongue. "Not that I knew what that was. I'd been out there so long. It could have been there, with my comrades on the front line... or here, with my kids and my husband that I hardly recognised." There was no disguising the bitterness. "I believe you met Alex."

"Yes." It was a taboo subject for Serena. For some reason that made Bernie smile.

"Ah, Ms Campbell disapproves, does she?" The smile faded. Her eyes still closed. "I'm not ashamed of who I am. But of the hurt I caused." She continued, in a soft whisper that if Serena hadn't been watching her lips move, she might have missed it. 

"Do you hate it? Living here, I mean?"

"Yes." How could Bernie not? She was trapped- she felt suffocated, with every sympathetic look from her son, every run-in with her ex-husband. She didn't speak to her daughter, her relationship with Alex had crumbled. Bernie who had always been a woman of action, was now paralysed and covered by a duvet, trapped in bed in a house that had never felt like hers. Serena was... a relief, but Bernie would never let herself forget that Serena was paid to be here. If she was given a way out, she would likely take it. And Bernie wouldn't blame her.

Silence fell again, Serena not knowing what to say to that. She adjusted the pillow behind Bernie's head, and the duvet around her chest, straightening it out. Stroked a few strands of her hair from her eyes. Could've sworn she saw Bernie's mouth twitch; comfort? Or just ticklish? 

"Sorry," Serena said, sitting upright. "For the questions. Do you want me to leave?"

"No. Stay for a bit. Talk to me." Bernie swallowed. Her eyes opened again and her gaze slid up to meet Serena's. She looked unbearably tired. "Tell me something good."

Serena hesitated a moment, then she leant back against the pillows beside her. Side by side. They sat there in the near dark, peacefully, watching the briefly illuminated flakes of snow disappear into the black night.

"You're okay. I'm okay." Serena said, finally. 

"What?"

"It's something I say to my nephew." 

"Jason, right?"

"Yes. Whenever the world gets too loud or noisy for him, or I get too stressed and irate about... whatever, that's what we tell each other." Serena confided. "You're okay. I'm okay. The world can go round. I always thought it was rather beautiful." 

_ "Me too." _ Serena craned her neck and looked over to Bernie, who was staring at the ceiling. Bernie was contemplating the words. They were cliche, and oversimplified- but something profound as well. Though, Bernie thought in a self-deprecating way, it probably hadn't ever been applied to quadriplegia.  "I suppose it makes about as much sense as most of the psychotherapeutic help I’ve received." Her tone was soft, and thoughtful, despite the sarcastic words. "Okay, Campbell, tell me something else."

They talked a bit longer, and then Bernie nodded off. Serena just lay there, watching Bernie breath, the gentle rise and fall of her chest, her bird-nest of hair and striking cheekbones. Even asleep, she looked tired. Serena wondered what sarcastic comment Bernie would come out with, if she was caught staring at her. They butted heads often, a playful sparring of wit and quip flew between the two ladies now as they had grown used to each other's company. And now? Now, Serena was the only other person in the house, and she was still afraid to leave Bernie.

Shortly after eleven, Serena saw Bernie had begun to sweat again, her breathing becoming shallower, and she woke her and made her take some fever medication. Bernie didn't talk, seemed still half asleep, but murmured a quick thanks after swallowing. Serena changed the duvet cover, and the pillowcase, before letting Bernie settle down on the pillow again. Serena watched as the breathing became a lot better, then lay down a foot away from Bernie, using the blanket to cover her, rather than the duvet, and, a long time later, fell asleep herself.

*******

"Serena."

"Mmhm."

_ "Serena."  _ There it was; words again, hissed over her.

Serena had little knowledge of where she was; caught in the half-conscious state between sleep and wakefulness. She stirred. Yawned. Grumbled at the now insistent calling of her name. It was probably Jason. Had he stayed the night? Or it was Robbie. Maybe she'd stolen the covers again, he was always giving her grief about that...

"Serena!"

Serena blinked, stretched. She let her eyes focus and then looked up to see the less-than-impressed Cameron Dunn.  He was still in his smart jacket. Serena felt slightly sick, and pushed herself up with a start.

He had definitely inherited that smug look from his mother. Serena patted her hair down hastily, wiped her mouth bashfully. Beside her, Bernie still slept peacefully, wrapped in the covers. Light streamed through, indicating a bright, crystal morning was now upon them.

"What are you doing?" Cameron asked. Serena blinked. He tried again, this time with an edge of dry humour.  "Is there a reason you're in bed with my mother?" He raised his eyebrows and suddenly Serena realized with a slight coil in her stomach, just how compromised she looked. In bed. With Bernie. 

Serena had been curled up into her. Her head had been resting on the other woman's chest. She had shed her outer blouse in the night, and so her arms were bare and she felt rather exposed in her thin camisole now. Her feet were still clad in a pair of Bernie's soft socks.  

Serena cleared her throat and attempted to regain her professionalism. "Bern- your mother. She wasn't well, in the night. And with the snow... I thought I should keep an eye."

"What do you mean, she wasn’t well? Look, come out into the hall." Cameron waited till Serena moved first; grabbing her blouse as she did and straightening her clothes as she headed out the door with him bringing up the rear. 

He closed Bernie's bedroom door behind them.

"Your mother had a temperature. Morven got it down when she popped around, but it was still- she was a bit peaky.  I didn't want to leave her." She paused. "I mean, Morven said best not," Serena explained, with at least some semblance of compactness. 

"Why didn't you call me?" Cameron asked her. "If she was ill, then that's something I need to know, Serena! Especially if you had to spend the night with Mum."

"I did try! I tried the intercom, multiple times because you neglected to let me know you were swanning off to London to meet your sister! And when Morven told me, she said not to disturb you." Serena reasoned, just a little irritable. Cameron's mouth set into a line; yet another expression passed down from Bernie. 

"That...is none of your business," Cameron said, firmly. Serena knew that. But she also knew she had been sick with worry about Bernie last night, unable to call him due to fractious family relations, and unable to reach him because he hadn't bloody said he was going out! It was hard to sympathise, and ultimately, despite Mr Dunn being her boss- it was Bernie's welfare she was concerned about.

"Your mother is tougher than she looks." She replied, utterly convinced. Cameron pressed his lips together. The relationship between mother/daughter/son was a delicate one. Charlotte barely spoke to Bernie since the divorce. She lived in London, away from the hellish bubble of this house, away from the entrapments. Far more and away a Daddy's girl, Charlotte was estranged. Cameron knew it hurt his mum more than she would ever admit. He gave a loud exhale through his nostrils, and Serena's temper flared- this was the reaction of someone trying to explain to a child the way things are done.

"She is so much weaker than you know."

There was a lot of weight to that sentence. 

*******

Spring seemed to come all of a sudden. Winter had retreated and overnight the snow melted and everything became greener, and activity seemed to hum behind everything. Birds sang, the sky was blue rather than the light grey of the late months. All was content and beautiful.

However, Serena was in a furious mood that morning. Stresses with Robbie and his new found mid-life crisis left her precious little peace when he was at home. She was stupidly questioning herself; her looks, her fitness. He had offered, out of courtesy, if she wanted to come running with him and the lads, but she had declined. Robbie had never minded her vivacious personality. Had liked that Serena was open to good food, and good wine. Hadn't minded that she was a little curvy- that her thighs were fairly thick, and her belly wobbled. She had stretch marks from Elinor and marks from her mother. Her mother; who had always said she had the haircut of a young boy.

Maybe she would change. Maybe she would go out running, and cut out the Shiraz. She'd buy something sexy, and fluff up her hair. Chances were... she would do none of those things.

And as if that weren't enough, there had been some incident with Jason, plying her for work, asking if he could come and meet Bernie, or get a driver's license. Alan was on holiday, so he had been living with Serena, and by default, Robbie, for a week now. And Serena really didn't know how to tell Jason that enough was enough. Robbie kept butting in, and add that to the usual detritus of the working hours with Bernie, and her demands of her daughter and ex-husband... Serena had put all her pent-up energy into washing the dishes, scrubbing them till they were spotless, and then again, squeezing the sponge in her hand.

She heard a whir of the wheelchair behind her. Serena emptied the sink bowl of soapy water, and grabbed a tea-towel, which gave a loud slap of a sound as it whipped in the air. Serena set about drying the dishes.

"What's the matter?" Bernie asked, jerking Serena from her thoughts.

"Sorry?"

"You're quiet."

"Last I checked, you prefer it that way."

"Go on. What's up?"

"Nothing.”

“You look like you need a punching bag.” Bernie tenderly joked.

“Last I checked, you'd be the last person I'd go to for relationship advice.” Serena cut deep.

"Yes, but-" Whatever Bernie might have been about to say was then sucked out of her as they heard a knock on the sliding living room doors, before they were slid open and Cameron walked in. He always seemed to look out of place, a little awkward. He cleared his throat, Bernie span her chair around from the window and Serena smiled in welcome. It was a tight smile.

"I've asked the cleaners to come and do a special sort of... spring clean." Bernie looked over at Serena, meeting her eyes with a faintest lift of her eyebrows. Serena knew those cleaners would be there for hours. 

There was a pause. Was he wanting them to get out? Bernie waited for her son to say something, but he was apparently unsure himself. Finally, she had enough, and looked back over at Serena.

"Let's get a breath of fresh air, yes?" She offered. Serena studied her for a moment, before giving a small nod. Bernie nodded, that seemingly settled, she turned back to Cameron, who was stunned. His mum never went outside. "Ramp?"

"Wh-er, yeah. All ready to go." 

"Right then." The hum of the wheelchair, as Bernie took the lead. Serena followed. "If anyone wants us- we're outside."

The garden was beautiful. The air was chill and fresh around them, typical of a dewy spring morning. Serena had managed to grab a blanket, and her own coat, and so was now just applying the blanket to Bernie's lap. She already had on her grey fleece, zipped up.  The flowers around had started to bloom and the grass was awash with buds and blooms. Serena opened the doors and they went outside, Bernie keeping her chair on the stone path for ease. She gestured towards a cast-iron bench with a cushion on it, and Serena sat there for some time, both faces lifted to the weak sunshine, listening to the sparrows squabbling in the hedgerow **.**

“Do you want to talk about it?” Bernie finally ventured, looking over at Serena, as much as she could. Serena folded her arms around herself.

"No. You just caught me at a bad moment, that's all. I'm fine now. Really.” Serena sighed, looking down at her feet. She kicked a stray bit of gravel.

“My darling son is going to have those cleaners running around like lunatics in there for a good hour or two. We have time.” Bernie said, softly, so much so that Serena was almost inclined to believe her. “Is it Jason?”

“No. Well, yes. Jason’s always a worry. His latest venture is wanting to meet you. And/Or get a driver’s license.” Serena admitted. She paused. “It’s… Robbie. Just boyfriend things. That’s all.” 

“Right.” 

“I think he wants to move in.”

“Think?”

Serena waves her away. “We’ve not exactly had a proper talk about it. I don’t know why it’s even an issue, he spends a lot of his time at my place anyway. And it’s big enough, though arrangements would have to change with Jason and Ellie when she visits…” Serena sighed. “It’s not like we could afford to move now. Besides, it’s not very practical, we both have obligations…”

“How long have you two been together?” she asked.

“Bit over four years.”

She looked surprised. “That’s a long time.”

“Yes,” Serena said. “Well.”

"What does he do?"

"A police officer. Detective."

"Ah, a man of mystery."

"Not really." Serena replied, despite Bernie’s tone belying the fact she didn’t think highly of the detective. Bernie hadn't met Robbie, but from what she had heard- the small snippets and overheard phone conversations, she had concluded he sounded a bit of a bland man. Serena seemed to like him though. Had to, if they'd been together that long. Serena didn't strike Bernie as a woman who would put up with too much in her relationships.

"What’s he like? In three words, if it makes you uncomfortable."

Serena thought about it. "Straightforward. Loyal. One of the lads."

"Six." Bernie said, after a moment's pause.

"What?" 

"Six words. I only asked for three."

"Then it was a 2 for one. I love a bargain." Serena countered. "What was she like, then?"

"Who?"

“Alex.” Serena prompted. Bernie sighed.

“A surprise. Gorgeous. Funny. Better to me than I was ever in return.”

"How long were you with her?"

"Eight, nine months."

"Not that long." Serena reasoned, comparing it to Bernie's 25-year marriage. She was candid, making her peace with it being an affair. It wasn't her life. Wasn't her place to judge. Somehow, Serena had drawn a veil over it. Somehow, she was able to sympathise. Bernie wasn't Edward. Bernie was nowhere near Edward.

"Long for me." Bernie mused. An odd sentiment, especially considering her marriage. But she was separate from that. It was all separate; Alex, being out there, being under fire in the dust and the heat. It was a different world, almost a different life. That  _ 'almost'  _ was the crux though, wasn't it? That  _ 'almost'  _ was everything.

"She was on your unit?"

"Fellow medic. That's how we met. You?"

"Oh, he turned up at the GPs office." Serena picked at some fluff on her coat's sleeve.

"Flirted over the receptionists' desk?" Bernie teased, and Serena met her gaze to see that well-known smirk and cheeky eyes. She raised her brows, suppressing a smile herself, as if to say:  _ So what if I did? _ Bernie's smile grew wider. Inside, they could hear the dull drone of the vacuum cleaner. There were four women in the cleaning company, all wearing matching housecoats.

“Do you miss her?” Serena asked. “Alex?” She added, as if it weren’t obvious.

Bernie seemed to be watching something in the far-off distance. “I used to.” She turned to face her, her voice matter-of-fact. “But I couldn’t have made her happy. I’m not even sure she made me happy. It’s a good thing she found this other woman.”

Serena nodded, and patted Bernie’s leg.

Every day with Bernie was subtly different – depending on her mood or Serena’s, on the weather, and, more importantly, how much pain he was in. Some days Serena would arrive and she would be able to see from the set of Bernie’s jaw that she didn’t want to talk to her– or to anyone – and, noting this, Serena would try to stay out of the way, and make sure all the jobs were done, anticipating as much as she could.

There were all sorts of things that caused Bernie pain. There were the general aches that came with the loss of muscle – there was so much less holding her up, despite Morven’s best attempts at physio. There was stomach pain from digestive problems, shoulder pain, pain from bladder infections – an inevitability. Bernie had a stomach ulcer from taking too many painkillers early on in her recovery, believing that soon they would not be needed if she just  _ pushed  _ herself enough with the physio.

Occasionally, there were pressure sores, from being seated in the same position for too long. A couple of times Bernie was confined to bed, just to let them heal, but she hated being prone. She would lie there listening to the radio, her eyes glittering with barely suppressed anger, hating her own invalidity. Serena did her best, and some days it even seemed to work if Serena just sat and read to her, or they stuck a movie on and watched it together.

But the most debilitating was a burning sensation in her hands and feet; relentless, pulsing, it would leave Bernie unable to focus on anything else. Serena would prepare a bowl of cold water and soak them, or wrap cold flannels around them, hoping to ease Bernie’s discomfort. Serena had become surprisingly used to the physical requirements of Bernie’s life. Even then pain, and Bernie’s reactions and retreats from it. 

Despite all this, Bernie did not complain. This was why it had taken Serena weeks to notice she suffered at all. Luckily, for both, they had developed a secret language by which Serena could tell by a wince or a look in Bernie’s eyes how she was. She knew when a laugh would work, or when it was best to leave it lying. Sometimes Bernie was in so much pain that his face actually leached colour, turning to pale putty. And despite everything, all the medication and drinks and physio or bedrest, Serena could do nothing. Those were the worst days.

But on other days they got along with each other quite well. Today appeared to be a pain-free day. When Mr Dunn came out to tell them that the cleaners would be another twenty minutes, Serena decided to make them both another thermos each, and then they took a slow stroll around the garden, Bernie sticking to the path and Serena opting for the damp grass at the side.

“I haven’t.”

“What, you’ve only ever lived in Holby?” Bernie veered a little to the left as the path diverted.

“Only here.” Serena turned and looked at her, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. “So? What’s so weird about that?”

“But, where else have you been? Abroad? Holidays? Travels?” Bernie pressed.

“I went to Paris. With my mother, but I was young. After that… priorities changed, I had Elinor, and my husband was busy and then there was the divorce, then Jason and everything. Travelling wasn’t important.” Serena retorted.

“Not important?”

“I’m happy here.” 

“You’re the same age as me, and you’ve only lived in a tiny village. The furthest you’ve ever been is Paris, and that was when Paris was barely worth going to! Don’t you want to… I don’t know, see a country house, eat ice cream for breakfast, or move to the South of France and grow your own grapes?”

“Ha. That’d be nice.” Serena said, rolling her eyes, before reiterating, “I’m happy here.”

“Well, you shouldn’t be.”

“You like telling people what to do.” Serena noticed, shaking her head softly. “Telling me I should go out and  _ carpe that diem?" _

"Only when I know I’m right,"  she said. "Can you adjust my drink? I can’t quite reach it." Serena twisted the straw around so that Bernie could reach it more easily, and waited whilst she took a sip. The cold had turned the tip of Bernie’s nose pink.

Bernie grimaced. “Jesus, the tea in Kabul was better than this."

"You’re just used to lesbian tea," Serena said, teasingly. "All that lapsang souchong herbal stuff."

"Lesbian tea!" She almost choked. "Well, it’s better than this stair varnish. Christ."

"I pour a large glass of Shiraz better."

"I bet you do."

"Do you have an opinion on everything?"

"Go on, then, Ms Campbell. Give me your opinions."

"On you?"

“Why not? I bet you have them.”

“You could cut your hair. It looks like someone has stuck a blonde mop on your head.” Admittedly a conditioned mop that was dried and curled and fluffy. But a mop all the same.

"You sound like Cam." Bernie rolled her eyes.

"Well, you do look bloody awful. Can you even see out of that fringe?" Bernie gave her a look, and Serena grinned, triumphantly. “I knew it! Right, that’s it, this afternoon, I’m cutting it.”

“You’re having a laugh.”

“Try me.” Serena looked at her directly. 

“No.”

“Yeah.” She smirked. “Come on, I’ve raised a daughter, I can cut hair a little! I’m a bit rusty mind but I can do it. Plus, I could do it anyway. You can’t stop me. I’ll stick on some movie with subtitles and then come out like a ninja.”

Bernie let out a laugh; deep and rich, amused by Serena. Serena felt a burst of pride at that, oddly enough. It was so rare that each laugh was enough to make her day. She grinned back.

“Campbell,” she said. “Do me a favour?”

“What?”

“Scratch my ear, would you? It’s driving me nuts.” 

“If I do, will you let me cut your hair?”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“It’s not the dog in the fight. It’s the fight in the dog.”

*******

Serena wanted to wash Bernie’s hair first. It was better to get all the lugs and tugs out of it, so she had a clean canvas to work with, so to speak, rather than the unruly mess. Serena lit a fire, put on a film in the living room- where the actual haircut would take place- and then set about trying to make it comfortable for Bernie to have her head rested against the sink in the bathroom. It took some swearing (Serena), chuckles (Bernie) and a lot of adjusting her chair’s settings till she could work. 

Serena set to work, letting the unruly blonde locks slide through her fingers, easing Bernie’s head back into the sink. Rolling up the sleeves of her hot pink blouse, she then brushed the hair from Bernie’s eyes, backwards so that it was away from her face. She took a plastic cup and wet it like that, pouring the warm water onto Bernie’s scalp.

“Not too hot?”

“Mmm… no.” Bernie swallowed, closing her eyes. Serena smiled, and then set about trying to remember all she could about cutting Elinor’s hair. The TV was playing the background, and the sound filtered through. Bernie settled back as Serena worked in silence, watching the blonde turn brown as the water cascaded. She looked at the lines in Bernie’s face, was able to study the scar at her neck as it was bared to her. She saw the mauve shadows that told of nights and nights of lost sleep, the furrow between her brows that spoke of silent pain. The shampoo smelt floral and fresh.

It was a calming presence, and an oddly reverent experience as Serena washed Bernie’s hair, then conditioned, and finally combed through. She wound the damp hair into a towel, and adjusted the wheelchair so that Bernie was happily upright again, and able to wheel herself out into the living room. Serena had a towel on the floor as well, to collect the hair, and Bernie wheeled into position, in front of the TV.

The long bob was cut shorter, layered so that stray flicks fell in front of her ears, and others brushed her chin. Serena hummed as she went, made jokes, anything to make Bernie happier. The cut hair fell to the floor or tickled the back of Bernie’s neck, making her squirm. Finally, she had a good lump of it off, and it was better than the long bob that had grown out of shape, even Serena could tell that when wet. Finally, it was time for the fringe. Serena made her way to the front of Bernie, to find that she wasn’t watching the movie at all, but rather had her eyes closed, her face a picture of peace, with a slight smile. Serena paused, letting the moment wash over them, pleased. But something in the lack of scissors and humming that Serena had fallen into, must’ve alerted Bernie to the change, and she peeked her eyes out, looking at her through wet strands. 

“Bad?” She asked. Serena snapped herself out of the daze, looking down, willing the red to leave her cheeks. 

“No, no, not at all. Just… checking it was even.” She blustered. “Right, eyes closed, Major. Let’s get that hair from out of your eyes.”

It was a curiously intimate thing. Serena had not realised that cutting her fringe meant that Serena would be able to study Bernie, so close. She had to look at her, closely, so that her breath ghosted on her face. It was impossible to be this close to someone, to have faces only inches apart, without feeling a little unbalanced. Serena was able to look closely at her; at the blush on her cheeks, at the well-defined cheekbones that sloped the plains of her face, at the classically handsome nose and thin yet dainty lips that were the colour of a crushed rose. 

With her eyes closed as Serena worked, Bernie looked near-asleep, a slight smile given as Serena brushed her fingertips on her skin. As she tucked a hair behind her ear, or raked her fingers through the darkened yet drying threads of Bernie’s fringe. The thought flashed by that the only time anyone ever touched Bernie was for some medical or therapeutic procedure, and so Serena let her fingers rest lightly upon her skin, trying to make the movements as far from the dehumanized briskness that characterized Morven’s and the doctor’s interactions with her as possible, such as the back of her hand on Bernie’s forehead as she checked the length of the fringe, or cupping her face to turn it this way and that, to get a better look.

She was a beautiful woman, Serena thought. She could say that much. It was no wonder Alex had fallen for her, that her ex-husband had. There was a grace and beauty that wasn’t present in many women of their age. She had stature, despite her disability. A pale complexion that complemented her. Like some sort of nymph- all willowy. Serena worked slowly and carefully, encouraged by the fact that he seemed briefly at peace. 

As she neared the end, Serena let the movements grow more lethargic, drawing out the process as the TV droned on in the background. As if sensing this, Bernie opened her eyes, and Serena found them looking into hers. They were brown, a brilliant brown and flecked with wrinkles at the edges. There was a short pause.

“I’m bald, aren’t I?” Bernie asked, straight-faced. Serena reached out and picked off a cut piece of fringe from Bernie’s collar. She shook her head. Another pause, then softly; “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.” Serena replied. She ducked from Bernie’s sight, taking the towel from around Bernie’s neck and shaking it, so that all the hair fell onto the one on the floor. Bernie’s hair was quick to dry, and though damp, it was starting to curl, giving a rusted halo look. “Right,” Serena said, finally. “Does it feel okay?”

“Lighter.” Bernie paused the DVD as Serena came back in front of her.

“Odd seeing your eyes. Slightly unnerving. You’re like one of those paintings that follow you.”

“Charming!” Bernie smiled broadly nonetheless.

“Hold on,” Serena said. “I’ll get two mirrors. Then you can see it properly. But don’t move. There’s still a bit of tidying up to be done. Possibly an ear to slice.”

Serena was in the bedroom, going through Bernie’s drawers in search of a small mirror, when she heard the door slam. Two sets of brisk footsteps, Mr Dunn’s voice, raised, anxious.

“Lottie! Lottie, wait!”

The door to the living room was wrenched open. Serena left the mission of finding a mirror and ran out, having no intention of being found absent again. Mr Dunn, was at the entrance to the living room, hand on his forehead in a degree of tiredness and alarm at the confrontation going on.

“You are the most selfish woman I ever met!” a young woman was shouting. “I can’t believe this, Mum! You were selfish then and you’re worse now. You utter  _ coward! _ ”

“Lottie.” Mr Dunn’s gaze flickered towards Serena as she approached, cautiously, and peeked into the room. So this was Charlotte; Bernie’s daughter. “Stop.”

“Oh My God, Cam! Shut up!” The young woman’s fury was evident. She was beautiful though, with high cheekbones, delicate freckles and dark blonde hair twisted up in a knot on her head. She wore suede boots, jeans and an oversized flannel shirt. The attention went back to Bernie. “I can’t believe it. I can’t believe you would even think of it. What do you –”

“Lottie.” Mr Dunn’s voice lifted sharply. “Not now.” Bernie was stock still, not looking at anyone or anything, but merely staring ahead.

“Bernie?” Serena said, quietly.

“Who are you?” The young girl said, whipping around. It was then Serena could see her eyes were blotchy and cheeks wet.

“Charlotte,” Bernie said. “Meet my paid companion and now hairdresser, Serena. And Serena, meet my daughter Charlotte. She seems to have overcome her pride of six months to shout at me.”

“Don’t you dare.” Charlotte all but spat out, her attention going back to her mother. “Cam told me. He told me everything.” 

Nobody moved.

“Shall I give you a minute?” Serena offered, not looking at Cameron, but rather over to Bernie, who, despite her forced levity, was white as a sheet. She really didn’t want to get into the middle of a family dispute.

“That would be a good idea.” Mr Dunn spoke through gritted teeth. “In fact, take your break now.” Serena escaped the room, grabbing her sandwiches and debating whether to sit in the garden or in her car. It was now raining. Serena took her coat; car it was.

As she left, she could hear Charlotte Dunn’s voice echoing inside the house. “Has it ever occurred to you, Mum, that believe it or not, this might not be just about you?”

*******

When Serena returned, exactly half an hour later, the house was silent. Morven was washing up a mug in the kitchen sink. She turned as she saw Serena, a small smile on her face, like she was afraid to show happiness. A grim comradery. 

"How are you doing?"

"She still here?" Serena asked, winding her scarf from around her neck. 

"Who?"

"Bernie's daughter."

“Ah. That who it was? Yeah, she’s gone. I think Cam took her through into the main house.” Morven told her. “Gosh, I’ve never even seen Charlotte before. And Cameron hardly mentions her apart from saying he’s going to visit. She must have come back with him last night. What was it all about? Some sort of family row?”

“I don’t know,” Serena said. “I was in the middle of cutting Bernie’s hair and this woman came in and just started having a go at her.”

“It’s a good haircut. Nice work, now we can actually see her eyes!” Morven joked. It fell flat. Serena walked back into the living room. Bernie was sitting, staring out at the garden again. The TV next to the window was still paused at the exact moment Serena had left it.

“Do you want me to turn this back on?” Serena offered. For a  moment, time stood still. Bernie didn’t seem to hear Serena. She was stuck in her thoughts, the confidence gained from her haircut had been shrunken and crushed, and now she seemed a lot more vulnerable without the large fringe to hide behind. The earlier relaxed expression was replaced by a blankness. Bernie was closed off again, hidden behind walls that Serena couldn’t scale.

Bernie blinked, as if she had only just noticed Serena was even there. “Why not,” she said.

*******

Serena had busied herself with the washing after showing Morven through to Bernie. She was carrying a basket of laundry down the hall, when she heard them. The side door was slightly ajar and the voices of Mr Dunn and his sister carried down the long corridor, the sound coming in muted waves. Charlotte was sobbing quietly, all fury gone from her voice now. She sounded almost childlike.

"There must be something they can do. Some medical advance. Can’t you take her to America? Things are always improving in America."

"No. Lottie, we keep an eye but there isn't anything." Cameron replied.

"She's just so different. I mean, it's not like we saw her much before anyway, but now it's like she's just determined not to see the good in anything." Charlotte changed tact. "What's Dad say?"

"Dad's out of it. You know what it's like, since the divorce- he can barely be in the same room without feeling guilty and horrid, and she's the same. He takes care of the bills, but it's just me, Morven and, now Serena."

"Oh, great, so we've got 'the help' paid for! Can't they do something? Therapy?"

"She’s been like this since the start, Lottie. I think it’s just that you didn’t see her after the few times after she got home, and then never after the divorce. Back then, I think she was still … determined. Back then, she was sure that something would change. 'S probably why they did divorce." Now the divorce had turned into something else. No longer was it a lifeline, something brave she could do, and a new life to look forward to when she recovered. Some vain, rose-tinted future. Now, it was a way to push her family away, keep her isolated. Stop hurting anyone, despite her hurting herself.

Serena felt uncomfortable, snooping. But something drew her in, and she found herself keeping to the wall but inching closer towards the door, her socked feet making no sound on the floor.

"Lottie. Look, Dad and I didn't tell you. We didn't want to worry you, and you weren't really around, you were studying. But, Mum..." Cameron struggled over the words, mumbling and rambling on. "Mum tried to kill herself."

"What?" Serena only just heard Charlotte's pained whisper.

"Dad found her. Back in December. It was … it was terrible." Serena felt the blood drain from her, her head hitting the wall next to her, her fingers brushing the doorway frame, a feeble and half-hearted attempt to keep herself up. She knew Bernie was down, and that she was bitter and stared into the bloody garden every morning. But this? Oh, she should have known.

Serena heard a muffled cry, a whispered reassurance. There was another long silence. And then Charlotte, her voice thick with grief, spoke again.

"So then...  _ that  _ woman?" Charlotte's voice quivered, as reality set in for her. It was starting to set in for Serena too.

"Yeah. Serena is there to make sure Mum doesn't do anything like that again." Cameron explained. Serena stopped, a few feet from the door. Finally, it all made sense to her: Mr Dunne saying she should not leave Bernie alone, Bernie’s initial disgust and utter lack of politeness towards her at the beginning, the fact that Serena’s job just seemed to be watching and waiting for… _something_.

She had been babysitting. Serena hadn’t known it, but Bernie had, and she must have hated her for it.

**Author's Note:**

> I just thought it might be a good idea. Dunno if I'll add to it. Let me know what you think?


End file.
